Whatever people say about falling in love
by Foodwise
Summary: Everything's not lost, though it seems that way after a major break-up. But life has a way of throwing heady stuff at you when you expect it the least. Maybe it's worth starting all over again? Femslash, forgot to mention that in the A/N.
1. 1

**Disclaimer: CSI and its characters as well as anything connected to it are not mine. Some people golf, others take drugs, this is my recreational activity. I make no money writing these stories.**

**A/N: Hey there. **

**So this is an experiment. I'm not even sure that I'm gonna continue or even finish it, since I have no idea where it came from or where it's supposed to go. I'm just a little stuck with finishing or continuing my other stories at the moment, so I gave something else a try and thought I'd just post some chapters and let you be the judge whether it's worth continuing.**

**I'm back at writing from the first person POV and boy, does it feel like coming home...**

**It actually doesn't even have a proper title. I just used the first line, it seems to fit. Call me a bit confused as of lately, because I really am, my apologies.**

**As for those who haven't read anything by me yet, English is not my home turf and you will notice considerably often. I keep trying to give it my best, though. I hope it's passably readable and I'm sorry if I made really bad mistakes. Please never hesitate to point them out, I'm eager to learn.**

**So, here goes...

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1.

Whatever people say about falling in love, it's mostly not very close to what I think. They say it's heavenly, the anticipation, the hope for your feelings being returned by the object of your affection, the utter bliss when a mutual attraction is confirmed, the sweetness of a first kiss, a first touch on heated skin, the first tentative or fiery lovemaking, the time spend together, the life led as a couple.

So far that's not so untrue. But what about the possibility of a break-up? The possibility that one of the lovers might love more than the other? What about feeling so heartbroken after a split up, that you think you'll never be able to smile again, laugh again, be happy again, love again? Why do we constantly try to get ourselves in the worst possible situation that makes us so vulnerable as it is to open yourself up to someone, let them in, love them, just to be destroyed and shattered when it doesn't turn out like we'd hoped it would? Is all the good worth the bad in the end? Most people think it is. I don't think so.

I'm damaged goods, in more than one sense. Any kind of trust I've ever put in another human being has been wronged. The last time I fell in love, I told my partner I was bruised and battered, but not broken. I hoped they'd understand. To be careful with me and my feelings. I tried so hard not to fall too deeply, but in the end I did, with a lot of encouragement from them, that it'd be worth it this time, that this time it'd be forever, no one and nothing could change their feelings for me. And I believed it again. It was so good as long as it lasted. I've never felt more secure, more cared for, more loved and cherished in all my life. I felt like I'd come home after a lifelong search for the place that'd fit those words. Home. We moved in together, we even got a pet, a lovely red-striped cat from the shelter, simply called Red, since he had no name and we couldn't come up with something less -well, obvious. He used to sleep in our bed, happy to have a home, content to be treated the way he should have all his life. We made a cute little family. We fitted.

My world was whole and perfect, for the first time in my life. I never thought that I could have fun just going to buy new sheets or that fabulous retro kitchen lamp. Hell, I don't think I've ever been to a flea market before. The name alone, yikes. But strolling along the lanes, the stands filled with the weirdest curiosities, the afternoon sunshine filtering through the trees, my lover's hand in mine, stopping to thumb through old photographs, antique books, cases filled with LP's from all decades, I felt a happiness I still can't explain. That's what people do when they're in love. And I'll never forget that picnic at Lake Mead, and I surely won't forget the dessert that followed. Blue hour, skinny dipping at a remote beach and making love in the warm water of the lake. I don't think I ever came that hard before. It was bliss. All of it.

Until one day I came home to find them in bed with someone else. Drunk wasn't even enough, no, they were wasted and fucking the hell out of their "guest". I slammed the bedroom door shut and left without ever looking back. No shouting, no fight, no apologies, no great scene, just the end of the life I had learned to love so much. I couldn't even cry, I just felt like the weight of the world had settled itself upon my shoulders and my chest. I didn't sleep for almost a week. We never talked. I returned once to get my stuff after having left a note that they'd please not be home that afternoon for at least four hours. I left my keys on the kitchen counter. I didn't take any of the things we'd bought together. But I took Red. If I had to live without them, I'd have at least my big red cat to comfort me through the loneliness. That night, surrounded by boxes and furniture uncoordinatedly scattered all over an apartment that I knew would never feel close to anything like a home to me, I finally cried and he snuck up into my lap and purred like never before. I stroked his soft fur absent-mindedly and fell asleep on the couch with him curled into a ball on my stomach. His absolute trust and devotedness was a true comfort indeed.

I tried to tell myself that I was just back to square one, back left to my own devices, a place I knew all too well and I'd get used to the feeling again. Over the next few weeks I tried to get accommodated to this new place. I almost emptied out a DIY-store, painted every room in a different colour I liked, renewed the tiling in the bathroom and the kitchen area, hung up plenty of pictures and paintings, arranged my furniture nicely, bought a couple of plants and real curtains for the bedroom, added a candle here and some framed pictures I'd taken myself there, threw a heavy and soft comforter over the bed and made space for a huge scratching post in one corner of the living room. I'd outdone myself. I'd created a model home, ready to be displayed in some magazine about home improvement.

I buried myself in work. Working doubles had never been something odd for me, but the doubles had turned into triples lately, at least since I was done remodeling my flat. I just went "home" to feed Red, take a quick shower, fall exhaustedly into bed just to wake up after not much more than a couple of hours and went back to work.

People have long started to worry. Well, not exactly people, my colleagues and friends. As little as they had noticed how much happier I had gradually become over the past three years, the more they recognized my deteriorating mood, my broodiness and withdrawal the moment everything went downhill.

I get lectured a lot lately.

That I've been losing weight, that I drink too much coffee, that I'm too concentrated, well, can a person be too concentrated when engrossed in finding clues to catch murderers, rapists and other scum? I don't think so. And I obviously lost the ability to talk to any one of them. I have the feeling I talk all the time. But then that's just me.

At home I talk a lot. Because there's Red and you couldn't wish for a better listener. He sits on the middle shelf of his scratching post, which is about my shoulder height, very straight and looks at me intensely while I ramble about cases, tricky evidence, boring paperwork, the newest office gossip I pick up walking past the other labs or sitting in the breakfast quietly reading while everyone else chatters about. And he listens to me mourning my loss. And he understands, because it's his loss, too. He did love both of us equally I might say, even though it's hard to figure out a cat. But one thing I'm sure of, he's very good in picking up on feelings. He felt my anger, my sorrow the sense of betrayal, he felt their remorse and guilt and I think he knows that I needed him to come with me, needed the comfort he gave me by just being a cat, purring and strolling around my legs, he never left me out of his sight for the first week or two after we moved out. I know he's lonelier now, too. I'm at work too much and there's no second person around anymore with a completely different work schedule.

But he copes. I bought a small fish tank with three colourful inhabitants and he can sit for hours in front of it, watching them.

I got sent home early today. I lost my temper. All the pent-up frustration and anger went-off and I yelled at a colleague during a seemingly harmless argument. Thank god that only my direct supervisor was witness to my blow-up, he made me apologize, which I did in all honesty and sincerity, I was well way out of line, and ordered me to get home, sleep and not return until the day after tomorrow since tomorrow is my day off, one thing I lately ignored a little too often.

So there I am, watching some rerun of a show I used to watch and stroking Red's fur, who has rolled himself into a huge fluffy ball by my side on the couch.

I can't stay home, I'm neither tired nor do I feel the need to remain stationary. I feel restless, my body still in work-mode.

I try to remember the last time I went out on my own to have a couple of drinks. I can't. We always spent our days off together.

I take a shower and slip into something presentable, but plain. I don't plan on causing attention, I just want to blend into a crowd.

On the way to the door I snatch my jacket off the hook, pet Red's head lovingly and tell him I won't be too long, grab my keys and wallet but leave the cell and head out.

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**Okay... more is on the way. Let me in on your thoughts. And thanks for reading!**


	2. 2

**Impatiently waiting for spring. I want to ride my bike again without freezing my ass off and catching yet another cold. Just freakin' great. **

**Ah, yeah, let's go on with this one.

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2.

I definitely forgot how loud it can be in bars. Especially bars with a dance floor. I choose a seat at the end of the long bar and order a beer, watching the people that surround me. I just remembered today being Friday as I see how many people are out on the streets at 2 am in the morning. Despite this being Vegas, there is still a noticeable difference between a weekday and Friday and Saturday nights. It's the nights when added to the usual hordes of tourists the locals with regular jobs enjoy their days, and nights, off.

There are small groups occupying the larger tables, laughing, talking, drinking, enjoying themselves. A few couples, a lot of people on their own, looking for someone to talk to or just some distraction, dancing and drowning their worries in alcohol, dimming, shuttting out the world for a couple of hours that end in a drunken haze or maybe in someone else's bed.

The atmosphere is light and peaceful nonetheless, most are still just here to have fun, no arguments, just music and chatter and laughter are to be heard. I try to relax and order a shot with my next beer and let myself be sucked into the general mood that engulfs the room.

Just as I feel myself becoming dazed and my ever racing mind is slowly clouded by a light fog left behind by my third drink, I see them. And I can't look away. Why here, why today, we haven't run into one another for almost four months now. I don't want to see them as happy as they appear to be when I haven'T even begun to really cope with the whole situation.. Dancing wildly, surrounded by one or two people whose faces I vaguely remember, having met them once or twice and in the arms of _the_ other one. The one they cheated on me with. So it wasn't just a drunken one night stand, it was something real. Or it grew into something real after I left. I can only guess.

But boy, does it still hurt.

I did a good job not thinking too much about what I lost so far. I misstheir physical presence, I miss not being alone when I got home, I miss all the things we did together, but I have avoided so far to remember that I had planned on loving them for the rest of my life. Well, not planned, it had just happened. No more starting over, no dreading process of getting to know someone, no fights with myself anymore whether someone is worth to be let in, to be trusted, I really thought that was all over. Being known can be a real warm and fuzzy feeling. We shared such a comfortable and easy trust, it all came so naturally with them.

I decide to put on a brave and detached face, in case they notice me.

That's when I get the gut feeling that someone is watching me. I always had that kind of sense, I just knew when someone stared at me, I was being followed or intently observed. Once in college that saved me from a rather nasty incident. I look around inconspicuously, but they are still merrily dancing and no one else seems to even look into my direction. I try to shake off the odd sensation, but it decides to linger.

Then the bartender sets a fresh Heineken down in front of me and tilts his head to get my attention.

His steel blue eyes bore into mine as I focus on him with a questioning look on my face.

"I'm supposed to tell you that a smile suits you much better than all the frowning you obviously have been doing way too much lately. Someone hates to see you sad, girl. Enjoy the beer."

He smiles a crooked but genuine smile, but makes no indication to tell me who it was that had him deliver this message to me. He pats the bar once, nodding encouragingly and turns to tend to all the other customers again.

I let my gaze wander through the overcrowded space once again. So someone was watching me. I repeat the message again in my head. 'A smile suits you much better...'. I haven't smiled all night, so it must be someone who has seen me before tonight. I look over to them, but shake my head, they hadn't left the dance floor yet, so there was no chance they had placed that order. And it just wasn't their style to be so cryptic.

Someone hated to see me sad. Strange as it may seem, at this moment that's an eerily comforting thought. I look into the mirror-covered back wall of the bar in front of me, raise the bottle a bit as if toasting to myself or even the unknown spender and try to smile. I haven't done that in such a long time that my face muscles have a hard time coming up with that abandoned expression, but after a second or two I succeed and I have to agree, smiling does suit me more than frowning.

I empty half the bottle in one go. And still feel like I'm being observed. The hairs in the back of my neck stand up and I sign the bartender to come back to me once more. He still has that warm smile on his face as he sets his elbows down on the wooden and well-worn surface of the bar in front of me and rests his chin on one hand.

"No. I'm not going to tell you what she looked like and yes, I have seen her here before. But she did seem surprised having spotted you here on the other hand. Girl, you look like you've had a rough time lately. Drink up and go home, have a good night's sleep and do something for yourself tomorrow. Just a professional advice from someone who's talked to a lot of people over the years."

I blink a couple of times to let sink in what he just summed up.

He straightens up and winks at me.

"Take it as it is, someone's looking out for you. Everything's not lost. Good night, Sara."

How does he know?

He leans in and frowns a bit apologetically.

"She told me your name. I'll call you a cab. It be a pleasure if you came back one day. And by the way, that smile of yours is really worth looking out for."

He turns and picks up the phone.

I'm at a complete loss for words. This barkeeper is really something else.

"Hey!" I shout over the overall noise to get his attention just one last time. "What's your name?"

His head whips back at me and he grins.

"I'm Marty. Cab'll be here in five."

I gulp down the rest of the still cool beer and looking at it I have to smile again. Not the way I had planned it, but coming here definitely took my thoughts off almost everything it was occupied with before.

I look over at my ex one last time and interestingly enough right now it doesn't hurt just as much as it had before anymore.

Stumbling out of the bar I take a deep breath of fresh night air and make my way over to the waiting taxi. All the way home I wonder who it could be that likes to see me smile. Seems I have a puzzle to piece together.


	3. 3

**Yes, I know the chapters are very short. But here's the next installment already. **

**BTW, my wish was granted. 11 degrees and sunshine with some clouds. I left the car and took the bike... Now my legs are heavy like hell. No workout all winter. That's gotta change. Yay spring!**

_**Stark**_**, thanks for reviewing, so glad you like it. I actually tried to concentrate on **_**Mistakes**_**, but it's official now, I'm so very stuck and it sucks. The words just won't come, so I'm going to focus on this one for some time, until inspiration strikes on how to bring Eli and Sara's story to an end.

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3.

I do as Marty told me. I sleep as long as I possibly can the next morning and I did sleep unusually well and undisturbed and didn't wake up just to not be able to fall asleep again and spend hours brooding about my life before sleep claims me again. Or doesn't. I prepare myself breakfast and sip my coffee out on my small balcony before taking a shower and getting dressed.

The moment I walk into the spa I wonder what it is I'm actually doing here. That's so not me. But the scent of massage oils and the idea of walking out of here relaxed, with a kink-free back and probably looking five years younger after having endured all those treatments I booked convinces me not to bolt. I've never done something like this before.

The massage is long and skilled hands knead every last knot out of my strained muscles and leave me sighing under the warmed blanket that's covering me now. I have really taken too little care of myself lately. I used to go to the gym three times a week when shifts allowed it, I ate somewhat regularly and cooked more often from scratch instead of simply ordering take out. And too much coffee gave me a persistently sour stomach. As I stand in front of the mirror while putting my clothes back on I promise myself to let some of the bad habits go I started making a routine after the break-up.

I treat myself to a fruit smoothie and a fabulous grilled vegetable sandwich on the way to my favourite bookstore. Though I haven't been here in what seems like ages, Agnes, the owner, greets me like I'd only been here last week and we engage in a pleasant discussion about some novelties and textbooks she thinks I should take a look at and she makes us some green tea. I sit in the old leather armchair beside her counter for hours as I skip through a huge pile of books to pick some out that will make it on my shelf at home and chat with her every time there are no other customers around.

By the time I finally manage to drag myself away, yet not without carrying a very heavy bag now, it's almost evening. I drop my purchases home and feed and entertain Red for a while before making a rather long grocery list to refill my empty kitchen cabinets and my fridge with all sorts of stuff that'll do me good.

I walk down the dairy products aisle to take my pick from the vast variety of yoghurts when a familiar voice addresses me.

"Hey Sara."

I turn and steering a shopping cart into my direction is Det. Sofia Curtis. She smiles and I can't help but smile back, it seems I've found that it isn't as difficult to allow my face to come up with this expression now than it had seemed less than 24 hours ago.

"Hello Detective." I retort and wonder why I don't feel annoyed to run into someone from work at a convenience store. Apparently I'm in a really good mood right now. Yes, I feel like smiling. Thanks, Marty, thanks, whoever it was that made me smile last night.

She bumps her cart deliberately but softly into mine and taking a closer look at all the stuff I already accumulated in there, she raises her eyebrows at me.

"Did someone rob you of just about all your provisions? Or were you planning on feeding an army?"

I chuckle involuntarily at her bluntness and add some strawberry yoghurt to my purchases.

"Neither, actually. I just haven't had so much time lately to go shopping and used up everything I had. I can't even really remember my last day off. And having one today it occurred to me that I haven't cooked in ages and staring into a fridge solely occupied by a bottle of water and a glass of jelly, I decided it was time to do something about it."

She reaches for a carton of milk and gives me one of her lopsided smiles. Considering that we really started off on the wrong foot as she joined graveyard as a CSI, ever since she came back from Boulder City and joined the PD I more and more enjoyed working with her and went from barely tolerating her to almost liking her and her keen and investigative mind around.

"So what are you cooking then, Sidle. Should I be jealous?" She asks staring blankly at the microwaveable meals in her own cart.

"I haven't decided yet, but it'll sure be more tasteful than your, erm, preferred dinner choice."

She mock-pouts and shrugs.

"I have no choice. I even manage to burn a simple toast, so any attempt at cooking is definitely doomed for me."

I pick out two balls of mozzarella and rather stay silent before I say something wrong now.

Finally I sigh and do something I rarely do.

"Look, I really had a hard time lately and last night a strange incident made me think. I had a great day today, the first good day in a long time. Because I decided to make it a good one. I think I'm going to cook a vegetarian lasagna tonight since it's one of my favourites, then watch a nice movie and try to relax a bit more, recharge those empty batteries."

Sofia smiles a knowing smile and I can see it in her eyes that she's eager to shoot some questions at me, but she obviously knows me well enough by now to well be curious but at the same time she's stunned at the amount of personal information, superficial as it was, I've just shared with her. So she retreats and gives me space, not pushing me or her luck having caught me in a good mood for once.

"I'll leave you to your hopefully enjoyable evening then."

She pushes her cart away from mine and gives me another one of those flashing smiles.

"I'll see you around, Sara. Think about me and my poor frozen dinners when you savour that lasagna."

I grin and wave her good-bye before concentrating on the remaining items on my list again.

While I wait in line at the cash counter, I see Sofia head out into the parking lot. It's only then I notice that I don't think I've ever seen her wear jeans before. She swaggers out just like she always does and I wonder what made me speak so openly with her before. Maybe I just miss having someone to talk to who actually answers, much unlike Red. I should really start calling my friends again, I think I might have come to a point where brooding and moping starts to feel like I'm rather drawing my pain out than beginning to overcome it. I should have asked her to have a coffee with me. Maybe some new friends who are not familiar with the whole dilemma would do me good.

Yeah, maybe I should just think about bringing my life back on the right tracks.

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**Thanks for reading and please help lighten my mood by leaving a few words...**


	4. 4

**Okay, one more quick update and then I'm going to have to force myself away from the computer, I've got so much to do...**

**I'd really, really appreciate a little feedback if you don't mind, and like I said in the beginning, I really don't know where I'm going with this, so if any odd ideas spring to your minds, I'm fairly open to any kind of suggestions...**

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4.

As I fall asleep late at night, a strange image flashes through my mind just seconds before Morpheus claims me whole. The look on Sofia's face as I smiled back after she greeted me. Smug, which is nothing special or new when it comes to her, but just the slightest bit quietly content. I don't get to the point of wondering what that might have meant, I'm already too deep in dreamland.

And those dreams were weird and that's putting it mildly.

I was dancing next to my ex in that bar but it was as if I didn't even exist, no acknowledgement of my presence from those close around me whatsoever. Every two minutes Marty came over bringing me a new bottle of ice cold Heineken. A jungle of bottles soon accumulated around my restlessly moving feet and though it seemed like I stepped on them all the time, they neither fell nor broke, like they weren't solid, like projections or holograms. My ex made out with the new love beside me wildly, but it didn't fathom me the least. I just kept on dancing, swaying, grinding to the sensual beat of the song, very much unlike the way I dance in reality. Red sat on one of the huge speakers and looked at me like I had just lost my mind, the expression on his feline face almost human. Then the whole room changed its colour into an almost black and white scheme like in one of those old film noirs and the lighting got considerably darker, the music slower and almost dramatic. People's faces are bathed in and eerie glow and looking more like masks, expressions frozen in place, they wore makeup like the actors in the silent movie era did. The moves they made were all in slow motion now and a spotlight was shining down on me, making me the literal highlight of the whole room, the center and the only one left in colour.

All of a sudden slender arms encircled me from behind and a foreign body pressed itself into my back, its form definitely female and moving in complete synch with me, while warm hands caressed my stomach and hot lips descended onto my neck to knowingly kiss that small little patch of soft skin behind my ear that when caressed the right way usually made my whole body tingle in anticipation of things to come. And the kisser succeeded. I moaned low under my breath and the playful hands went up and with nimble precision knuckles ran around the undersides of my breasts and further up until both palms cupped my rounds and lightly stroke over rapidly hardening nipples. My breathing became shallow and my heart pounded strong and fast in my chest. I tried to turn my head to find out who assaulted me so pleasurably, but I couldn't turn my head. Suddenly I realised that I couldn't really move at all anymore and the feeling of being completely at a stranger's mercy restricted my chest and a wave of fear washed over me. But the second those strange fingers began flicking and pinching my nipples through both the fabric of my bra and shirt and a wet tongue ran across my neck, all anguish was replaced with a lust I hadn't felt in what seemed like years. Confused, yet way too turned on to worry about my sudden involuntary change of heart, I leaned into the touch that got more forceful by the minute. Teeth nipped at my pulse point and one hand descended and impatiently popped the first button of my pants open, slipping into the tight garment and the second one finger delved into the wetness that had built up between my legs I woke up with a start.

Panting and sweating profusely I sit up and grab the bottle of water from my nightstand, gulping the cool liquid down my dry throat greedily.

'It was just a dream,' I think over and over again, trying to calm my still rapidly beating heart.

I push myself up the bed and rest my back against the headrest, shaking my head in the darkness of my bedroom, frowning.

To be honest, I never, ever had a sex dream before. Very vivid daydreams, of course. Fantasies that I played out in my mind, you bet. But unconsciously in a dream? Never.

Two things really disturb me. The first is that I never got to see the person behind the touches. Do I miss being touched, being loved by another person so much? Was there no face because the body just personified a need I carry inside of me? Well, that seems like a reasonable explanation. I've always enjoyed sex and physical closeness, with the right partner that is, and getting deprived of a connection that had been exceptional due to the sudden break-up, I sure miss it all a lot.

The second is that I had so quickly accepted the fact that I wasn't able to move, not even if I had wanted to get away, reclaim my freedom in that dream, get away from what you could well categorize as sexual assault, that my fears and all those indicators that could have triggered very bad memories had been washed away and been solely replaced by a height of arousal I had even in real life rarely experienced. I had practically submitted, which was something highly unlikely for me to ever do. A tremor runs through my whole body at the memory and then again heat settles in some very distinct areas of my body when I realise that I had pretty much _liked _the feeling in my dream. Like my mind had clearly registered that after all, it really had been exactly that, just a dream, where everything is possible. Liked that feeling, well I shouldn't kid myself at this point, I'd adored it. After the initial fear that had attacked me, I had melted into that touch, those arms had made me feel safe and sound and I would've taken anything they would have offered me, would've gotten down on my knees or even worse if they had asked me to. Scary. Hot. Scary but oh, so hot.

I jump out of my bed and frantically pace the living room. I think whether I would have agreed to what I'd dreamt about if it had been a planned kind of role play in one of my relationships. And I guess I hadn't, too little control for my usual taste... Or maybe I had, my ex once had me blindfolded, it had taken me a lot to finally agree to that fantasy, but the outcome had been nothing but amazing for me. Being deprived of one sense really increases the sensibility of the remaining ones.

I force myself to stop thinking about it and just let it be what it was, a dream. For now at least. I heat some milk in the microwave and while using it, I break into a short giggle, remembering the sorry contents of Sofia's shopping cart. I change into a dry shirt, empty the mug and crawl back into my bed. I haven't by far slept long enough yet to get through a full shift or even more without starting to yawn every ten minutes if I don't rest for another three hours at last.

The rest of the night goes by without any more dreams or nightmares and as my alarm clock goes off, I feel more relaxed and ready for the day.

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**Thanks for reading. Whenever I'm taking a look at the stats from time to time, I'm really happy to see just how many people are reading.**


	5. 5

5.

I walk into the lab I usually work in and check my inbox. Great, I'd be spending at least three hours catching up on paperwork today. Days off are a drag. Usually I do a bit every day, now the amount of almost three days is crammed into the small drawer. As I try to get all the files out without ripping any papers apart, a small neon yellow post-it note falls out between a couple of loose sheets. Glued to it is the cap of a Heineken bottle and it says: 'Thanks for the smile.'.

My luck the battered old office chair stands right behind me since my ass comes to a rest in it none too gently. So whoever was in the bar works here or has at least access to the CSI lab. Coming to think of it, that's not such a small number of people. First and foremost all the CSI's and supervisor's, day, swing and grave shift. Then all the lab personnel, assistants and interns. Everyone who's working for Doc in the morgue. Equally of all three shifts. Everyone with a rang from Detective up is allowed in the labs, too, without restrictions. And in the end there's the people who refill the vending machines and the water coolers, they could sneak into a lab, too, no one really observes them all too closely. And maintenance. Oh, and not to forget the cleaning crew. They creep into every corner and leave the lab nice and shiny every single day for us to work in.

I sigh. That's a hell of a lot of possibilities.

Marty said 'she' and 'her', so I can leave out all the guys. Which raises another question. It's not exactly common knowledge that I'm gay. I never mentioned to _anyone _except Greg that I had a girlfriend. So either someone was _very _observant and has a much better gaydar than mine, I never had that sixth sense, or has seen me with my ex somewhere out in Vegas.

I run my thumb over the bottle cap. And again I have to smile. Then frown. I really don't like the feeling that someone might have been watching me over a longer period of time. Honestly, it gives me a bit of the creeps.

Before I can even finish the thought of having to find out who it is and that soon before I'll slowly get paranoid and look over my shoulder anywhere I go, Greg bursts into the lab and comes to a skidding halt in front of me.

"Whoa, you're looking much better today, Sar." He states and gives me a once over that almost induces me to slap the back of his head. Don't get me wrong, I really like Greg and I can honestly say he's my best friend among all my colleagues, but despite him knowing what no one else does, sometimes he still gets that glazed over look on his face that tells me he doesn't just see me as a friend and I just want to wipe it off his grinning face.

But his glance today is different. It's appreciative but also a bit relieved.

"Are you feeling a bit better? You sure look like you do."

I'm sure he came here for something else, but I like that caring and serious side he shows way too rarely. I know he really worried about me after the break-up, he called me a dozen times during the first week, he'd noticed the change in me immediately but I shut him out. Like I did with everyone else.

I give him a weak smile and his eyes light up.

"Yeah, I'm feeling a bit better. How did you tell?"

He returns my small smile with a bright one of his own.

"The bags under your eyes are not as dark anymore. You look like you've actually slept more than four hours at a time. It's the first time since _that day _that you're not wearing baggy and wrinkled clothes. Your eyes have just the tiniest sparkle in them again. I like it, you're a bit more my Sara again."

I grin. His Sara.

"Your Sara?" I ask, raising one eyebrow.

He chuckles and looks down and as his eyes meet mine again, his cheeks have grown quite rosy.

He stutters a bit.

"I mean, not _my _my." He groans and obviously searches for the right words to explain himself.

"Look, you're my Sara when we go out or you come over to my place to watch a movie and stuff. You're simply not work-Sara then. You are more relaxed, you laugh so much more, you always have that twinkle in your eyes and you're more carefree. I'm so thankful that you trust me enough to just be like that around me. You've opened up to me and trusted me with some very personal things. I appreciate that to no end. That's when you're my Sara. I didn't mean it any other way."

He's adorable. And I couldn't wish for a better friend. As I told him about me being gay, I'd sworn him to secrecy but I already knew he'd never betray my trust in him. I've had some very serious and honest conversations with him over the years and he's way more mature than anyone at the lab seems to give him credit for. He's the goofball and he likes to be seen that way, it's the way he got accepted. He's a brilliant scientist and I think everyone acknowledges that, but still he's the kid around here. But not for me. I see the grown-up, decent, thoughtful man he has become.

My smile gets a bit wider as I thank him.

"I've had a good day off. I even went out, had a drink and treated myself to a spa day. I think I might be starting to cope with the whole situation."

"That's definitely a step into the right direction. I was worried, you know."

He sheepishly stares down at his feet again.

"I'm sorry I didn't talk to you, Greg. But I really couldn't. I promise it'll get better now."

He nods and beams at me relieved.

"Now tell me what you really came here for."

He shows me some lab results that turn my whole case around. Intrigued to figure out the rest, I get lost in my work and forget about everything else.

The night flies by and as I finally take the time to get myself a coffee, it's already starting to get a little brighter outside.

I sit on the couch, eat a yoghurt and try to drink my coffee really slowly.

With every sip of the pleasantly hot beverage I relax a little more. And start smiling again, reaching into my jeans pocket where I feel the now crumpled paper and the crown cap.

Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. I'd never been the girl who received little messages back in school, saying: 'Do you wanna be my girlfriend?' or anything. This is new and as much as it does scare me not knowing who it is that watches me, it kinda excites me. And makes me forget, at least a little. Okay, now the frown returns. I can't forget that easily.

Suddenly I sit up, almost letting go of my mug.

I have to talk to her, I have to draw a line under the whole disaster. I think what keeps me most from putting this whole relationship aside and really get over it is that we never talked when or after I left. I need to know what had happened, why she felt compelled to cheat on me, why I suddenly didn't seem to be enough for her, where we begun to get it wrong, what had changed.

I dread that kind of conversation, I'd rather imagine nothing of it all ever happened and go on with my life, but the last months prove that it just doesn't work that way. I need that clarifying conversation, even if it'll hurt like hell. I know I'll feel better afterwards.

Walking back to my desk, I type a message into my cell, asking her to meet me at my place this afternoon. I don't like having that kind of conversation in public and I sure don't wanna go to her place and see how much another woman has made herself at home in what had once been my home. And I'm sure she'd be grateful to see Red again, as much as I don't feel like doing her any favours after the mess she'd left me in, I know she loved him just as much as I do. Call it a peace offering or something. God, I might really be in a better mood than I anticipated. And all because of some stranger's wish to see me smile again. Just the kick in my ass I needed to finally move on.


	6. 6

**After re-reading a particularly incredible and amazingly well-written story late last night, way past my bed-time considering when I had to get up this morning, I'm this - indicates tiny gap between thumb and index finger - close to stopping with the writing thing. It's the kind of story or rather the way of writing that reminds me most harshly that I am not a native speaker and that my abilities to express myself are profoundly limited by my lack of vocabulary and phrases or my sometimes very bad grammar. Fucking pity! So here I am, apologising to you, dear readers, whoever you are, that I just can't live up to my usual possibilities when writing in a language I may never fully comprehend and in which I certainly don't live up to my own expectations. I don't intend to switch languages, CSI just sounds so wrong written or watched in German. But I feel utterly unqualified. Bumbling. Amateurish.**

**It'll take me a day or two and lots and lots of skimming through dictionaries and looking up synonyms, frantically jotting down expressions and vocab in my little black notebook to overcome those insecurities enough to keep writing.**

**Okay, I know there's at least one person out there eagerly awaiting an update. As you might have guessed, right now I'm completely dissatisfied with it, but nevertheless, there you go.**

* * *

6.

_"Baby, are you happy?"_

_"Hm? yeah, I'm happy Hanna. I'm completely and utterly happy."_

_"You're not missing anything? Anything at all?"_

_I turned in her arms and face her, still sleepy._

_"No, I don't. What in the world could I be missing. I have it all, this, here, is all I ever wanted. Now go back to sleep. It's rare that we get to really sleep together. Are you feeling okay? You sound beat, are you happy?"_

_"Yeah, I am, I'm just really tired. I love you, hon."_

_"I love you, too."_

I wake up, on my stomach. I rarely sleep on my stomach. My fist is clenching the pillow and I know I've been missing something that night, about six months ago.

At the time I was so tired and had already been asleep that I hadn't been paying much attention to her words. Now I know there was more to them. This dream or rather memory was already telling me half of what I needed to know from Hanna. She had wanted to know if she was the only one not feeling content anymore. It was her who had been missing something. If I had paid more attention, I could have seen it coming.

It's only now that I realise that our last month together hadn't been as smooth as all the ones before. We'd both been working long hours, mostly she was already gone when I got home and she rarely got home in time to see me before I had to go. Our schedules had always been a major weak spot in our realtionship, but we always found the time to make up for it, but that month even days off together were a rarity and we spent them sleeping, having sex, the most incredible sex of our whole relationship I might need to mention and cuddling in front of the TV with some take-out.

Goddamn!

How could I have been so fucking blind?

Urgh!

I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and walk directly into the shower, taking my shirt and panties off on the way. Months later and now _I_ feel dirty?

I let the hot water wash over me and let the realisation settle. Just a couple of hours and then I'll know for sure. I've been idealising this relationship. Glorifying it's seeming perfection, because I wanted it, needed it to be perfect. It just couldn't go wrong again, not this time, not after it had taken me so much to give it one last, final try. This had to have been it. And yet it wasn't.

I'm calmer now that I'm quite sure of what had really happened. Now all I need Hanna for is confirmation of my suspicion. My sadness has made way for an anger I couldn't push away. I'm angry at myself for not noticing, angry at her for playing me like that, angry that it might have been easier to deal with the situation had I known earlier.

The doorbell chimes and I take a second to compose myself.

Revealing herself to me behind the door is a slightly thinner, exhausted looking Hanna, still in one of her flawless power suits from work, her dirty blonde hair a bit longer like I had already noticed in the bar and her blue-grey eyes emotionless as she gives me a quick once-over.

"Hey Sara."

"Hi Hanna."

I step aside and let her get into my apartment. Her slacks fall loosely around her legs as she almost marches into my living room, I can tell she's been working too much.

"Let's just cut to the chase. I didn't expect you to ever contact me again after what- you've witnessed, so-"

But the words get stuck in her throat as a red shadow rushes past me and purringly winds himself around her calves.

"Oh, goodness, Red. Look at you, you've gotten bigger, does she spoil you much?"

I swallow as she picks him up and buries her smiling face in his fur.

"God, I miss you." She slowly sets him back down again and with a slight blush grazing her cheeks, she looks at me apologetically.

I bite back a groan. The last time I saw them like that, I still supposed everything was perfectly alright, I still lived the illusion of happiness.

"Hanna, there's only one reason why I wanted to see you and you're right, we should get right to it. I can see you're busy and you probably have another meeting or something later, or else you wouldn't have shown up dressed like that."

She nods and it's visible that she prepares herself for the confrontation at hand.

I decide to be blunt.

"You had an affair." I state, as emotionless as humanly possible.

Her reaction tells me everything I need to know. The sharp, short intake of breath, her eyes growing wider, how she's shifting her weight to her left foot and her lower lip trembles just the tiniest bit.

Great. Today I can read her like a fucking book, while I didn't have a clue she was cheating on me before.

She's just preparing to answer, but I am faster.

"How long?" I huff at her.

I can see her falter. She runs a hand through her hair nervously and starts pacing up and down in front of my sofa.

"Hanna, just exactly how long have you been fucking someone else behind my back and all the while letting me believe we led the prefect relationship? How long?"

It takes me a lot not to bark those words at her. I clench and unclench my hands to fists by my side, desperately trying to keep my anger in check. My composure is slipping out of my grasp, slowly, but inevitably.

She plunges into my couch and buries her head in her hands. As she looks up to me again, she finally starts answering.

"One and a half months to the day you ran into us. Fuck, Sara, I hoped you'd never find out. It was already hard enough, I didn't want you even more disappointed, finding out it wasn't just some one night stand."

Woah! _Some _ one night stand. That sure makes me wonder.

"Did you have those, too? Before the affair? Or even during it? How many women exactly have you been juggling, Hanna?"

She gasps and stares at me wide eyed.

"No, there was no one else, it was just Emily. I don't mean _just_ just. I mean-" She runs her palm over her face, closing her eyes for just a second. "I haven't cheated on you before her."

I snort. At least she's honest now.

"Why, Hanna? Why did you cheat on me? What have you been missing, what was wrong with us? I thought we'd been so happy. I really believed it this time, you know how much it cost me to get to that point. How could you-" My voice starts to crack and I know if I keep talking I will end up in tears. I will not go and humiliate myself any further by weeping like a baby in front of her. I won't.

"Sara, I didn't plan to have an affair. I kinda stumbled over it. It started out completely harmless. We hired this young interior designer, fresh of London's renowned St. Martin's College of Art and Design. She was cute, her accent was, well, refreshing and I was the one to show her the ropes, so my boss had decided. She was easy to talk to, friendly, open, eager to learn. We had coffee breaks together and after a couple of weeks lunch, too. Working with her made my life in the firm easier. She was quick, efficient and very capable. I didn't think too much about our instant connection, I was just glad to have another woman around. That was for the first month or two. Then she started to flirt with me. One of my colleagues had made a remark about Prop 8 and I jumped at his throat. So she knew I was gay. It was as if that had opened a floodgate. At first I felt flattered and went along just for fun, then waved it off, made it absolutely clear that I wasn't interested at all. I was taken, happily so. But she just wouldn't stop, she flaunted her sexuality around, making it very obvious that all I had to do was to make one move, give her one indication. I never did."

She stops and takes a deep breath. I know that this was only the prelude, the heady stuff was just about to come.

"Go on. I wanna know what compelled you to suddenly not being so taken anymore."

I can't keep the cynicism out of my voice.

She gets up and takes up her pacing again.

"You remember the Thompson project? The one that drove me up the walls? Well, I worked it with Emily. It was a big thing for me and having the new gal aboard was making it harder rather than easier, despite her skills. The Thompsons changed the schedule almost daily, added or withdrew ideas. I tried to maintain some semblance of a straight-forward approach, but suddenly Emily decided to pamper Mr. Thompson, Jr. We got into a huge argument back at the office as everybody else was already gone. I had the say in this project and she just wouldn't accept that. In all my anger I suddenly started noticing her differently. I spare you the details, but minutes later we were all over each other. I didn't- I didn't have sex with her that night. I practically fled home, into your arms, trying to understand what had happened."

I close my eyes and shake my head. I remember that night, vividly. Hanna came home furious, ranting about the project and how everything just went wrong. She was shaken up badly but argued that she had just had a huge fight with the purchaser and that she was afraid she'd lose the project to one of her older, male colleagues. I had prepared her a bath and held her tight in bed, until she started kissing me, asking me to make her feel at least something good on that shitty day. Oh, perfect, I finished what another woman had started for her.

"For a week nothing, absolutely nothing happened. I avoided Emily like the plague, had her reassigned to another project. But I couldn't get her out of my mind. There was nothing better about it, it was just so exciting and new and different. And she noticed, oh my god, how she noticed. And one night I cracked, everything she did that day had me wound up so tight that I gave in. From there on it took a life of its own. It was risky and immensely arousing. I don't know why. I think I was happy, Sara. Our sex was hot, I never for a second thought she was more attractive than you or anything. It was utter temptation and the riskiness that got me caught up in that affair."

"Was it the first time you took her home with you?"

"Yes. The-"

"Okay. How old is she, Hanna?"

"She's 26." That came out through gritted teeth.

"Oh fuck you, Hanna. Are you still with her? Is the affair your relationship now? She is almost ten years younger than you are. What the hell... Oh you know what? I don't care. I don't care that you can't even give me a proper reason other than temptation. We face temptations every day. We look, we think our bit, maybe we even flirt, just for the fun of it, that far I am completely with you. But if you're happy in a relationship, there is absolutely no excuse to take it any further than that. You knew what you were in for with me. And you fought hard for me. I believed your sincerity. You gotten cold feet? Was it too much of a commitment for you? Did you bite off more than you could chew with me?"

She comes to an abrupt halt and glares at me with equal amounts of anger and pain in her darkening eyes. I hit the soft spot. So she wasn't so damn happy with me after all.

"Yes, yes, dammit, I did. Yes, I fought for you so hard because I really loved you. I wanted you with all my heart, I wanted to give you all the security you needed, to be worth that enormous gift that was your trust. Your heart. But fighting for it, every day anew, never be sure of whether you'd decide just to bolt one day, your insecurities getting the better of you, that was hard to take. God, I loved you and I did my best not to let you see how much work you were. Then this young, carefree, cocky, self-secure woman comes along. Showing me how easy things can be. Making me doubt whether despite all the love I felt for you I would eventually, one day, have earned your trust completely. I never felt you let me see all of you. I never felt it got easier in time. And believe me, I tried to make it work. I did."

This is just too much. Who does she think she is? Putting the blame on me? She sure did a lot of comforting and assuring, but never once did it seem that the load was too much. Not once did she say we didn't make any progress, much the opposite, she told me time and time again how proud she was of me, how much I had changed over the months and finally years. Fuck her. If she had just said something.

"I have never before let someone see that much of me before. I don't think I have ever trusted someone like I trusted you. And you still didn't feel it? A year into our relationship I felt like a different person. Was I the only one who noticed that? I never had you for being so dense. You know what, you deserve such an easy game. You can't handle complication."

Hanna picks up her purse, sending me a resentful glance.

"Yeah, go and make it easy on yourself. But I don't think you'll ever find someone who comes even close to my abilities to handle complicated. But good luck anyway. I already feel sorry for anyone who will be biting her teeth out on your armor. I loved you, but sometimes love just isn't enough. Take care, Sara."

She had to deliver that last blow, knowing exactly where to hit me to create the utmost damage. The door flew close with a loud thud and I knew I never wanted to see her again. Now more than ever before.

The one good thing is, now I'm not sorry anymore that this relationship is over. But once again I know that it wasn't worth it. Letting someone in. All you get is pain. And all you come out of it with is another layer to that armour. One more reason to protect myself. One more reason to retreat. One more reason not to trust.

Flattering as it was, I don't think I want to find out who wanted to see me smile anymore. I'm just dodging another disappointment by never knowing.

* * *

**A word, or three, maybe? **

**Thanks for reading...**


	7. 7

7.

" Detective, what can you tell us?"

I walk through the opens doors into the house, Greg in tow and I'm kinda glad to see Sofia Curtis being in charge of the scene.

It's been a week. And I've gone back to sulking so absolutely that even Greg doesn't dare to bring anything up anymore. Everyone in the lab has backed off, sensing my mood. Not that there was much to sense, it is more than obvious. I snap at everyone who breaks through my routines, who asks me questions while I'm working, who doesn't have some lab results ready exactly when I need them. And I definitely look as gruff as I feel.

Even Grissom has noticed that, if even possible, my mood has worsened.

He hands me and Greg the slip for our B&E, gives me a stern look but doesn't even say a word. At least he's paired me with Greg, it's easiest for me to work with him, he at least partially understands where I'm coming from. I have to talk to him, he's completely confused where my good mood from last week has vanished to. And I promised him I would. Poor guy!

The only one who seems completely unfathomed by my demeanor and acts with an air of cool confidence around me is Sofia Curtis. And surprisingly enough she's also the only one I don't feel completely compelled to strangle every time she opens her mouth. I think it may be that nonchalance she's treating me with that makes me feel remotely normal, while everyone else ducks away and flees. Even Catherine just watches me wide-eyed and let's me get away with almost everything. No argument in sight. Now that is strange.

Sofia's eyes dart up from the body that lies sprawled out in the middle of a suburban houses' kitchen and seeks out mine. As if she was checking if the weather has already changed or it still is stormy around me. She raises just one brow at my expression and appearance and then starts rattling down the facts of our scene and victim while Greg busies himself taking pictures of the DB.

"Caucasian male, 35, name's Christian Gentry, he's the owner of the house. Lives alone, recently divorced. Signs of forced entry and of a struggle, lacerations on his forearms and chest, seemingly defensive wounds. Hand marks on his throat, but he wasn't strangled, he was shot. Dave?"

I look over to Super-Dave who's kneeling beside the body, curiously inspecting what looks like a bullet wound from a mighty big caliber. He scrunches his nose open-mouthed like he always does while looking up, to keep his glasses on a place on top of his nose so he can still see the people around him that are standing.

"Yes, what took him out was a GSW to the chest, .45 I'd say, through and through. According to his liver temperature he died somewhere between 5 and 7 pm in the evening."

I squat down beside the coroner's assistant and take a closer look.

"Wait a sec before you take him, this looks like GSR around the wound on his clothes, let me check."

I open my kit and about a minute later it's confirmed.

"So, shot from a short distance. With this caliber, somebody must have heard something." I state, gazing up at Sofia.

"Yep, neighbours heard a shot being fired and called it in. When the body is gone I'm gonna leave two officers outside and start a little round of questioning. Them first and then-" She takes a quick look at the time on her cell and chuckles. "Yeah, well, half past two in the morning, the best time to find witnesses in sleepy-suburbanville."

She sighs and I involuntarily feel the faintest of smiles creep into the corners of my mouth. Unfortunately she decides to throw another glance in my direction in that exact moment and glares at me, pursing her lips to a mock pout. My smile gets a bit wider at her expression and she seems content with my reaction, because the pout now transforms to a slight smile before she turns and leaves the house and I bend back down to securely tuck the GSR-test into an evidence bag.

I wouldn't wanna swap jobs with her for all the money in the world. I will never understand why she prefers the work of a Detective over that of a CSI. Maybe one day I'm just going to ask her.

Greg nudges me a bit and points at the broken glass in the back door's framed windows. So we head to the task at hand, Greg works the perimeter while I take the inside and another shift flies by like a much craved Disneyland-visit that's over far too quickly.

* * *

I have the next night off and like I kind of promised to Marty, I decide to pay the bar another visit. After all, my last visit there provided me with the best two days I had in a long time, even though I decided all the commotion wasn't worth the possible outcome.

I head to the bar and as Marty looks up from what seems like screwdrivers he's mixing, a full blown smile appears on his face and he instantly opens a bottle for me and sets it in front of me onto the counter.

"Good to see you're back, girl. Though I don't like that look on your face. If that was supposed to be a warm and welcoming smile for me, you really gotta work on it. It worked so well last time."

I shake my head telling him just not to comment on it, but what kind of barkeeper would he be, and given what had happened the last time I'd been here, if he'd listen to my unspoken plea.

"Sara, girl, who hurt you so much? By the looks of it you don't even wanna know anything about the person for whom you smiled so beautifully last time. Don't you think there might be a chance she's worth giving it a try?"

I snort a little louder than planned and Marty sends me a disapproving glance from the other side of the bar, where he places drinks onto a waitresses' waiting tray. I elaborate.

"From my up, close and personal experience, it is never worth it. It has never been, why should it in the future."

"So bad, huh?"

I knit my brows together and just nod weakly. Taking a swig from my beer, I wonder why it is so easy to talk to this guy. I know nothing about him except what I've seen and heard.

"Why am I able to talk to you so freely? I never talked to anyone about all this. Is this some bartender thing? The sensitive guy with the ever open ear? Or is it because you are a stranger to me?"

Marty finishes drawing a couple more beers, then dries his hands off on the towel that's stuffed into his waistband, gestures one of the waitresses to take over the bar while mixing himself a Whiskey and Coke just to round the counter and climb with a deep sigh onto the barstool beside me.

He glances at me sideways while nursing his drink and his warm, blue-grey eyes sparkle with intelligence.

"People talk to me. It's always been this way. From kindergarten on. Obviously I come across as a mighty trustworthy guy. Your- what shall I call her, the one that looks out for you, she talked quite a bit to me, too. She's a good woman, you know, Sara? I think you'd like her. Just like, everything else is a matter of chemistry and I can't tell whether you two might have some or not. Though I can tell she is into you, girl, very much so. But maybe you could at least be friends. It seems to me the both of you desperately need someone to talk to, honestly and freely, without inhibitions or worries, on your side even without the fear of rejection or feeling you've made yourself vulnerable, exposed too much of you. That's your problem, isn't it? Everyone you've trusted with more than just general information about you has left your life one way or another. You need someone who will prove to you that some people stay. For good. If not a lover, then a friends. Do you open up to your friends, Sara?"

I scrutinize him. He has known me for the better part of an hour maybe, on two different days and his comments are dead on. I fixate my stare to the neck of my bottle and nervously fiddle with the label. I should feel exposed now. Terrified at how much he has found out about me in such a short amount of time, how much I am willing to tell him. But I'm not. He really emanates immense trustworthiness.

"You have picked the wrong line of work. You should've become a shrink."

He laughs loudly and lifts his glass at me.

"But then you wouldn't be talking to me."

"Umpf!"

"Yeah, right. Another one?"

"Please, Marty." I say and reward him with one of the most genuine smiles I can offer him in my current state of mind.

He's back behind the counter and suddenly his eyes seem to light up a bit as he exchanges my bottles.

"Those friends of yours?" He gestures with a wine bottle in his hand into the general direction behind my left shoulder. I turn and see Greg, Nick and Sofia sitting around a small table, chatting amicably and having already accumulated a few rounds of empty glasses in front of them. Greg moves his hands at both sides of his head and his lips form kind of an 'O' while he rolls his eyes and both Sofia and Nick crackle up, the battered wooden table starts shaking dangerously and their laughter reaches my ears. They haven't noticed me yet, though they seem to have already spent quite some time here. I turn back to Marty.

"Yes, they are colleagues. Friends. Well... It doesn't matter. How did you tell?"

I'm really curious.

For a second I swear I can see some kind of mischievous twinkle in his eyes, but then he just shrugs and says "The guy with the goofy hair stared in your direction a couple of times. With a kind of worry in his look. I suppose he's the friend and the others are the colleagues?"

Once again my eyebrows shoot upwards. He's really good.

"You're right, once again. I'm a CSI with the Vegas crime lab. Both guys are CSIs, too. The one with the goofy hair is Greg, you could say he's one of my closest friends. The other guy is Nick, he often treats me a bit like a younger sister or something, he's a good man but we're not really close. The woman is Detective Curtis, Sofia, we work together quite often."

Now it's Marty's turn to look intrigued.

"And on what terms are you with her? You described your relationship to both men, but no extra word on Det. Curtis."

I pause. He's right. It's not like I had nothing to say about Sofia, the thing is I just don't really know what to say. What it is I think of her. I turn around again to watch them and give myself a moment to think about that.

As my heads whips around, I look directly into Sofia's eyes, she must have spotted me right then. The ghost of a smile rushes over her face as she acknowledges the eye contact, but keeps the guys from picking up on her having noticed me, as if sensing that I don't really have the urge to partake in their conversation. I send her a thankful smile back and attend to my beer again.

After a rather hefty gulp, I address Marty again.

"I like Sofia. Sometimes I think she understands me better than the others. Almost everyone is a pain in my neck at the moment, I'm disgruntled and angry and everyone just tries to avoid me whereas she just treats me like nothing was wrong. She knows when to leave me alone and she knows when to talk to me and how. I ran into her the day after I was here the last time and I actually considered asking her to have a coffee with me someday. Kind of what you suggested, making new friends, leaving the old stuff behind me. I couldn't stand her when she first started to work with us, but in time I've grown to admire her work, her attitude and her personality. Though she can be awfully cocky and almost arrogant at times. Cocky is alright with me, arrogant is not."

The sound of another fresh bottle of beer being placed in front of me shakes me out of my rambling and I stare in surprise and embarrassment into Marty's grinning face.

"So you do have quite a bit to say about that Sofia. I guess there's only one thing left to do. Befriend her. Maybe she will be the one who surprises you. At least you already have a lot good things to say about her even though you're just working together so far. And if you don't get along, she will still be the likeable chick from work and you can have a beer together with her and your colleagues after shift. What have you got to lose, Sara? And go tell your friend Greg that you're okay before you leave. He's watching you with those puppy-dog eyes again."

I sigh and let the cold beer wash down my throat.

"Marty?"

"Yeah, girl?"

"I think I've already made a new friend."

He chuckles and proceeds cleaning the surface of the bar.

"Have you, Sara? People might get the wrong impression if you get along with someone so well while pushing everyone else away. And I don't know if I'm friends-material, outside of this room."

I watch him closely as his forehead crinkles and his eyes get darker.

"Do your insights come from personal experience, too?"

He looks up, into my eyes and for the first time I feel I see the real Marty. There's a pain and sadness mingled into the kindness in his now almost completely grey depths that is far too familiar.

I stretch out my hand over the bar.

"Hi, I'm Sara Sidle, CSI."

He bites his lower lip and shakes his head at me as he reaches out to take the offered hand, but he can't help the smile that creeps over his face.

"I'm Martin Fields, barkeeper and owner of this cozy little place."

We shake hands and hold our gazes for a moment longer.

"It's a pleasure, Marty."

"Likewise, Sara."

"And thank you." I say honestly.

He nods and his eyes are brighter again.

"I think I'm gonna leave. I won't forget Greg, though, I owe him an apology and an explanation. But not today. Maybe I'll call him tomorrow. What do I owe you?"

Marty loads another tray with bottles and glasses.

"Nothing, girl, today's on the house. For a friend. You're welcome here any time, Sara, just come by when you feel like it. You might as well get a coffee. I make a mean espresso."

He winks as I take my jacket and wave him thanks and good-bye.

I approach the guys table and Greg's eyes are on me all the way.

"Hey Greggo, Nick, Sofia." I greet them.

"Listen, I just noticed you as I was about to leave, I'm sorry. Greg, can I call you tomorrow? And Nick, don't look at me this way, I promise, next time I'll join you, okay?"

He gives me his patented Stokes smirk. "Sar, we're just a bit worried about you. Don't become a stranger." His hand lands on my arm and his Texan drawl a bit more pronounced with the alcohol.

I pat his shoulder and say I won't. Before I leave, I bent down beside Sofia, who hasn't said a word yet, just patiently smiled and mumble low and close to her ear, so that the guys don't hear it. "Thank you. I wasn't in the mood for company. I don't know how you figured, but I'm really thankful."

I straighten up again and wriggle into my leather. Sofia's mouth form the words 'You're welcome.' and I nod and knock on the table.

"Have a good night, guys. See ya'all tomorrow."


	8. 8

**Hah, the stats are finally back up!**

* * *

8.

Over the next couple of weeks, I dedicated most the time I didn't spent at work on making my life worth living again, bringing it back to a certain order and myself back to- well, myself.

The first step was meeting up with Greg more regularly. And I marveled at how I could have gone all this time without him around. Movie nights out and the occasional concert, the pizza dinners at his place and once again I noticed how much he'd grown in his new role as a CSI and once again did a happy dance in my head at how much of a science geek he really was, eagerly discussing the latest articles about forensic achievements with him.

I've told him a lot about the past two and then some years, about the break-up and how it came down to one last confrontation with Hanna. As he snarls and calls her a bitch after I'm finally done talking, wraps me into his arms and hugs me tighter than he ever has, promising me never to betray the trust I put in him, I was laughing and feeling my eyes tear up dangerously all at the same time. I was so glad I let him back into my life.

Then there's my mysterious stalker. Over the past weeks, after each and every of my days off I found another little note or something on my desk. After that night at Marty's it was a sunflower with the note: 'Something happened and you've almost lost that will to smile once again. I hope it's just temporary. I miss it.'. On another day for instance a little bouquet of fresh rosemary, thyme and sage with the note saying 'Glad to see you're happier, because you are to some of my days what herbs are for good food, without them it's still enjoyably edible, but with them it's just got that little something that makes it oh so special.'

I have to admit I really liked that one. Five weeks, five notes, five little, thoughtful gifts. And then last week there was just a note. 'Before I start creeping you out, I'm gonna stop this. You're a rare and special person in this messed up world, Sara Sidle. Don't lose that and I sure hope you'll never forget how to smile again. Take good care of yourself.'.

I couldn't help myself but after I had yesterday off I went to my lab tonight before even getting myself a coffee or checking if Grissom had once again beat me in getting in early. But there was nothing. No note, no flower, nothing. To my surprise I felt a pang of disappointment mixed into the relief that I hadn't really rounded up a proper stalker. Yep, it was over. And I guess I'd really never find out.

The second step was the 'make new friends' thing. I considered asking Sofia to have breakfast with me since we got along so easily lately. Her quiet comfort went on until she was content I had found a kind of equilibrium again and was feeling a tad better. Last week I thanked her once again for not treating me like a nutcase all these weeks and how much her reassuring smiles and calm, unobtrusive support have helped me to smother some of my anger and frustration. She had just smiled and said "Anytime, Sara.". I felt like I had to do something for her too, to give back a bit, but I just don't know how.

The more my mood was beginning to improve again, the more the silent communication between us had gone to actual words. We bantered over cases and exchanged friendly small-talk, but I still wasn't sure just how to take it to a more personal level, partly because she seemed a bit tense lately and kinda stressed out. That could have been my cue to ask her what's wrong or something to start a different kind of conversation, but I just don't know if she'd really appreciate that. So I opted for the easier choice.

The very first time meeting Marty outside his bar was strange. I had discovered this little coffee shop that felt much more like Frisco than Vegas and sitting there with him, I was almost as nervous as if it had been a date. Then the waitress had to go and ask if she should split the check, and he covered my hand with his, looking at her like a love-struck teenager and then dryly stated: "No, she's always paying, we're a very modern couple and her job pays much better!" and I broke into a giggling fit I hadn't experienced since college.

Martin is a great guy. He's as insightful and serious as he is funny and easy-going. I have not for a single second regretted yet just how much I told him about myself. And I sincerely hope I never will.

* * *

I'm sitting in front of Agnes' bookstore, in the afternoon sunlight, with a real, home-made ginger and peppermint iced-tea. The ice cubes are clinking against the glass as I set it back on the small table and pick the novel up that I've been reading for the last two hours. Looking for the page where I left off, I hesitate a moment and look around.

And it's like someone's just been lifting a shade off my eyes, like blinds are drawn up and in floods the light of a bright and colourful sunrise, the radio alarm clock goes off and the silence of the night is pushed aside by the animated chatter and sounds of the day. I blink once, twice and yes, something has just changed. Inside of me. I feel alive again.

I think it has been dawning on me a couple of days now, somehow ever since I've made that decision to claim my life back. But still everything was still kinda set on mute and lacked real colour. I saw and heard everything, yet it didn't really register. People would pass me by and their faced were blurred, their voices like white noise to me.

As vividly as I felt everything while I was with Hanna, and happy, as equally intense I felt numb and detached ever since the break-up. My feelings, my perception, my interests, everything had paused and left me living, rather merely existing, hanging in a timeless bubble of hurt and disappointment, which hull was impenetrable by even the most mundane pleasures.

I put the book down and simply look around. A dog sniffs at my boots, wags his tail enthusiastically, a driver honks and yells at the cabbie in front of him who just suddenly stopped for a waiving businessman. Out of the shop floats the soothing sound of a piano piece I have to ask Agnes about, it's beautiful. A bicycle courier drives past me and turns briefly, grinning at me and raising his brows before he looks back ahead and resumes his zigzag route between the cars. A woman busily talking into her cell walks by and I catch a whiff of a sweet and fruity perfume. I take another sip of my tea and the slight tanginess of ginger, the freshness of peppermint and the almost smoky caramelly sweetness of dark brown sugar invade my mouth and the bubbly soda tingles on my tongue. I can't remember the last time something tasted as good as this. The piano fades out and the slightly husky but yet crystal clear voice of Eva Cassidy reaches my ear. I hum along low under my breath.

I want to stop this moment in time, take a snapshot and tuck it away somewhere safe for every single one of the days of my life when I will feel down or disappointed or hurt or pressured. So I can dig it out on then and remember how I feel today.

I snap the book shut and put it aside, squint my eyes, look up at the sky and feel the sadness seep out of me. The heartache is gone. Don't misunderstand me, I'm still sorry it all went wrong in the first place, that it was once again not the right person I put so much of my trust in, but the that's the only hurt that remains.

With yet again a rather heavy bag of new books slung over my shoulder, I unlock my door and prepare to go through my 'getting ready for work-routine'. Whistling I walk through my apartment, take a box with some lasagna out of the freezer, defrost it in the microwave, place it in an ovenproof bowl and sprinkle some more cheese on top before it goes into the oven. I'm in a generous mood today. While my dinner is happily cooking, I take a quick shower. Still in only my underwear, I eat while watching the news. I put a little more effort than usual lately in doing my hair, and hooked on jazzy tunes from the music in the bookshop earlier, I have a compilation of my favourites blaring out of the speakers. I wriggle into some dark jeans, choose a rather tight fitting black blouse and sling a silver pendant on a leather string around my neck. Just wanting to throw a last checking glance into the mirror, I have to stop and stare at myself. I haven't looked this good in a long, long time. And those are still work clothes, nothing especially fancy. I look like I feel, more alive, more at ease, positively good-humoured. I chuckle inwardly at the prospect of having Greg bombarding me with questions all night, Nick and Warrick smile appreciatively at me, Catherine's curious, yet suspicious glances at my sudden change of appearance and mood, Grissom's contently smiling blue eyes when he sees that I'm fine again and Sofia's cocky smirk that will say 'good to have you back.'.

And that's exactly what happens as everyone else starts crowding the break room while I already sit there, nursing my second coffee. The only difference though is Catherine, her smile is genuine and tells me finally that she, too, was worrying and that me having ultimately crawled out of that shell leaves her just as much relieved as all the others.

It's a slow night and so far only the boys are out on new cases, so I catch up on some paperwork in relative peace. On the way to Grissom's office to dump some folders on his already overstuffed desk, I do finally run into the Detective. But much to my surprise, there's no instant cockiness or smile, she just scrutinizes me for a few seconds, taking in my appearance from head to toe.

As our eyes lock, her clear blue eyes are tinged with a hint of an admiration I can't quite place, but then she smiles and her eyes do, too.

"You look so much better. Rested, relaxed, you almost look content. What happened?"

I'm slightly taken aback by that question, it's the first time either of us actually addresses what gestures and looks knew all the time, since that day in the supermarket.

I just smile and that smile quickly transforms to a full blown grin I just can't keep in.

"I am good. It kinda hit me like lightning today. I left the last months of my life behind me." I realise that it's this moment if ever, that I can ask the question that's been playing in my mind for so long now.

I clear my throat and with just a little hesitation in my tone, I let the words go.

"Say, I don't know what you're usually doing after shift, but would you like to have breakfast with me? My treat. I know I thanked you before, but you kinda had your part in pulling me through those weeks. And if you like, I think I owe you to shed a little light on what's been happening to me."

She eyes me up again, her gaze soft and laced with gentleness until a smile creeps into the corners of her mouth that bears no semblance to her usual cocky smirk or almost arrogant grin. It's just an honest, small, real smile that tells me I haven't been mislead into thinking what I did about her behaviour. There's much more to Sofia Curtis then she lets on most of the time.

"I'd like that, yeah. That is, only if you're really sure, Sara. Because you don't owe me a thing. It's good to see you look like this, smile like this again."

Honestly, shy and insecure doesn't suit Sofia. I want to reassure her, and that fast, I like her cocky and confident, though I'm intrigued by her more sensitive, emphatic side.

"Thanks." I grin. "I wanted to ask you for quite some time now, but it somehow never felt like the right time. So don't you worry. I'd really like to talk to you about something else but work for once. So, meet me at Jake's Diner after shift?"

"I'll be there."

"Good." I nod and only then realise I still carry a butt load of folders around with me. "I have to get those to Grissom. See you later, Detective."

* * *

**Am I going to do what you might think I'm about to do? Oh, so many lovely possibilities... Let me know what you think? And thanks for reading.**


	9. 9

9.

I've just had the most awesome afternoon. Yeah, I really said awesome. A friend of Marty's knows this band I've been listening to for like six or seven years and he got us into the sound check for their Vegas concert tonight. It wasn't about meeting any of them, I'm not that kind of fan, it was just seeing them kid around and practice, hearing some of their best songs performed live and some really hideous covers, I might add. The acoustics were perfect and standing there in that huge theatre, almost alone, having the chief sound editor explain that huge panel to me was, well, awesome.

I felt like a kid on a sugar high as we resurfaced out of the dark building into the blinding afternoon sunlight. Marty just pushed a Styrofoam cup in my hand and hugged me one-armed, winking at me and once again I'm so unbelievably glad I met him.

I'm just warming up some of yesterday's dinner, trying to make it a quick early one before heading to work, I've really neglected doing some paperwork lately, as my doorbell chimes. I turn the hob off before I head to the door and look through the peep-hole.

I grin as I find Sofia standing on the other side. I open up, but her expression lets the warm welcome I almost had on my lips get stuck in my throat. She passes me without a word and slumps down on my couch. With two large leaps Red is on her lap, meowing and pushing his head insistently against her arms until she sighingly starts petting him.

Fuck paperwork, somethings really wrong here.

I take a seat on the edge of the coffee-table in front of her, hesitatingly extending my hand towards her knee, barely touching her.

"Sofia, what happened?"

She never takes her eyes off Red while her brows furrow.

"How is it that cats always seem to sense when something is wrong? I'd like to have that sixth sense sometimes."

I'm seriously worried by now. I can honestly say finally inviting Sofia for breakfast was one of the best decisions I've made lately. I still can't get over how easy it was for us to flip the switch from professional to personal. Once we started talking we just couldn't stop. I know now why she understood my situation like she did and she knows what's happened to me. Apart from past relationships, you couldn't say our conversations have been very deep or soul-searching, but we found out we do have a lot in common. So lately I'm dividing my spare time between being at home with Red, reading and relaxing and meeting Marty, Greg or Sofia. The last time I had a personal life as busy as this was back in Frisco when I was still a Rookie, a bit more reckless and definitely a tad more adventurous.

"Robin is getting married, tomorrow."

I'm brought back into the here and now by Sofia's silently spoken words. My hand makes its full decent onto her knee while she's breathing hard. I don't really know what I'm going to do if she starts crying in front of me. Comforting someone isn't really my strong point. But Red's been starting to lick her hands, having his full cat support-routine going on. At least someone knows what he's doing.

"It's been four years and you know, I told you I'm so much more than just over him. Still it hurts. For the first time in a long, long time. I don't even know why anymore. I know he wasn't the right one, I know it wouldn't have worked out, I'll never regret that we split up for the right reasons and yet I feel like an 18-wheeler had just run me over."

I know she doesn't really expect me to say anything, she just needs to tell someone, someone who might understand.

"Maybe it just made me realise all the things I don't have in my life right now. Usually I'm not like this and you of all people know that. Maybe I came here because I know you won't judge me, won't suddenly think I'm weak or something."

Oh, I know very well just how important her reputation as this bad-ass Detective with the smug attitude is for Sofia.

I get up from the coffee table and sit down on the couch beside her, keeping the physical connection intact. I know it's not much, but somehow I think I'm doing just fine.

"In a sense I have all I need. I have a job I love and at which I'm damn good, a great career behind and in front of me, have colleagues who respect me. I have friends who support me, new and old, have a family that loves me, I have a home, a life. I know how to have fun, even though the time to really have some is scarce. I don't want that family life, a house, a spouse and kids, not yet at least. Why does it make me so damn sad then that someone I once loved is taking his chance at happiness. I should be glad for him, there are no hard feelings whatsoever."

Apart from the whole family thing, I could say just the same. I can without a doubt say that right now I am perfectly happy with my life. But I get where she comes from, I really, really do.

"It 's that feeling of being someone's priority, the feeling of being known and loved. To share all those small things with that are perfectly fine when you do them on your own, but that rise up a completely different level when you're able to share them. I love having dinner before I go to work, cook something for myself, but sometimes I wish there was someone sitting with me, talking to me about their day, about that shirt they've seen in some display, complaining that my curry is just a little too hot, kissing me good-bye when I leave, feeding the cat when I pull a double. I sometimes catch myself missing that, maybe it's the same with you."

I wasn't even aware that I said all that aloud, I'm still lost in my own thoughts. Wondering whether I still miss Hanna when I think about all that and so much more or if I'd really be open to share at least a part of my life with someone new. I am an independent person, I've learned early to rely on myself, I am perfectly fine living alone, not being in a relationship, I always was. Yet I can't deny that I'd really like to feel that warm fuzzy feeling again when you slowly start to realise that you are falling for someone. Not just that, I miss the surety of having someone.

Suddenly I do become very aware of the silence in the room. I blink and turn towards Sofia to find her staring at me. Her expression gives me instant goose-bumps. She's calm again but her ice blue eyes are still moist. She looks at me with that slight admiration I've seen this one time before and I still don't know how to place it.

"Tell me more, Sara."

I gulp and hold her gaze. Am I about to make that leap of faith and let her in a little more? She's come to me, to me of all people in a moment when she felt hurt and vulnerable. She's let me see that side of her that rarely appears, that side that made me respect her so much more and made me want to be able to call her a friend one day. Now that she is, I think I might as well give a bit of myself up as well.

"It's not easy for me to get to that point I just described. But I certainly miss it. Right now I'm not sure if I will ever be able again to allow another person to really get to know me. I could have something casual if it was just about a warm body in my bed for a couple of nights. I thought I had the real thing. I wanted it to last, to never have to make those efforts again, never be afraid which question will be asked next, what kind of reaction I might get when I finally allow myself to talk openly. I like my solitude, but some nights I wish that someone would just hold me, without the need of asking questions or be repulsed by strange things I might say or do."

Her brows knit together and I can practically see her mind working.

"Someone worthy of you would do just that, even without knowing every single reason for everything you do. You're a very private person, Sara, and that's your good right. Never let yourself be pushed by someone's curiosity. You have boundaries, so what? You've been burned before and I'd take a wild guess here and say much more often than just once."

"Yeah."

That's all I manage. But the sole fact of having confirmed her suspicion is me telling an awful lot to a woman I've only started becoming friends with a couple of weeks ago. Like with Marty, there's something uniquely trustworthy to Sofia.

"I think I wouldn't mind falling in love again. The anticipation, the waiting and wanting, the getting to know each other, at least the most part of that-" I pause for a second, heat creeping into my face, I've already once almost given up much more than I wanted. I know it will be even harder for me to go throught _that_ process yet another time, opening up, but she really doesn't need to know the reasons therefore. So I just keep on talking. "The dates, having someone around, waking up to someone next to you... Sharing that day to day routine. Especially that part. Most people dread that and I will never even come close to comprehending why. I love the moment the initial charme wears off, you drop the rose-tinted glasses and come to the realisation that what you have is not a fling, an affair or simple attraction, but love. I never thought it to be boring to do the dishes together, go grocery shopping, fold clothes or clean the apartment. I was never afraid that seeing your lover in their undies, eyes still puffy with sleep, brushing their teeth in the morning while leaving the bathroom door ajar could kill the buzz. I always thought it was the most fascinating thing. I'm not appaled by the thought of fighting over who gets to shower first or who left the closet door open so the cat had been leaving its hair just about on every piece of clothing that is in there or why one had to do so much overtime _again_. That is all part of life. It is as simple as that. Sharing your life with someone, all ups and downs included."

I've lower my eyes, not able to face her anymore. But she cups my chin and brings my head up again, I still try to avert her glance. Great, now I feel vulnerable. She came here for solace, didn't she? And here I am, rambling about a potential love life I know I won't have anytime soon.

"You know what? I am unbelievably glad that I'm not the only person generally thinking along those lines. You've voiced a lot that's going round in circles in my head, too. Finding out about Robin threw me in for loop. I want that, too. But I want to work my way into it. Gradually, without even noticing it. Taking baby steps. Not buy a house a year into the relationship, but rather take it slow but make it count. And then, someday, I do want to have a family of sorts."

She sighs deeply and I'm not really sure if she does feel better or if I've talked her into an even greater dilemma.

I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, trying to get my act together and just be there for her. And nothing could have prepared me for what I feel next. I feel her breath on my face and before my mind can come up with any explanation as to what the hell that meant her lips are on mine, brushing over them lightly, for nothing more than the fraction of a second.

Realisation crashes in and I gasp and pull back, eyes wide open in an instant.

* * *

**So I leave you with a cliffie. I know I rarely do that, but this one has a purpose. I want you to keep on wondering for a little while longer. So, how will Sara react? Have I got you hooked now, or what?**


	10. 10

**Oh man... I was really hoping someone had something to say after that last chapter. I seriously considered waiting just a couple of days longer before uploading the next part, but I'm not like that.**

**Yeah, I don't try to be too clichéd, I try to stay just a tad off the beaten track, I like my OC's, and I like not being too predictable. At least I hope I'm not. So please bear with me.**

* * *

10.

I'm breathless, breathless with surprise and shock and utter astonishment.

What the fuck was that all about?

Why did she do that?

Is she-?

Does she think that I-?

Aw, crap!

I focus on her and her eyes tell me that she's kind of just as surprised as I am. I don't think she planned that or even did see it coming until just a few seconds ago. Swirling in that light blue I see so much at this very moment, concern, withdrawal, I see she's deeply sorry, embarrassed and yet regardless there's this quiet admiration that I still don't dare to categorise.

She keeps the distance I put between us, but her hand descends to my thigh.

"I'm sorry, Sara."

Her eyes flicker from her hand to my mouth and then back to my eyes. Then she gets up and walks a few paces.

"I shouldn't have done that. It's just-" She raises her shoulders and lets them fall again in a helpless gesture, then buries her head in her hands, groaning.

"Aw, fuck, you're really not aware of the effect you can have on people sometimes, do you?"

I blink again and stare at her, absolutely not capable of understanding the meaning behind her words.

She walks back to the couch and sits down beside me.

"Behind this gruff and professional and stoic exterior, there's such an incredibly gentle, understanding, caring and loving person hidden. Bruised, shaken, for sure, but nonetheless beautiful and free. I just had to-" A deep blush makes its way into Sofia's cheeks. "It was the spur of the moment. Getting all emotional, feeling understood and seen as the person I am, the whole person. Not just parts of me. Sofia the cop, the investigator, the career woman, and Sofia, the private person, the attainable, emotional, and hurt person. You see them all and still like me, trust me enough to show me your other Sara, too. I guess it kind of overwhelmed me for a second there. Hearing that it's almost the same things we're both missing in our lives. I've had no one even close to what you are like in my life for a pretty long time. So please accept my apology."

I'm still in shock. I'd really like to answer straight away, but that hint of a kiss has really been messing with me. It's been the first since, well...

I don't know a thing right now. I have never for even a moment looked at her this way. Sure, I've seen all the sides of her she's just described and I sincerely like the person she is. The thought never crossed my mind though to see her as anything more than a potential friend, seconds ago a potentially best friend.

Then I notice the hurt that's creeping into her eyes, slowly draining out the embarrassment and everything else I've seen in them before. Still I'm not able to make a move, to say a single word as she slowly peels herself out of the couch.

"Look, I think I'd better leave now. I'm really sorry, Sara."

She takes a tentative step towards me to catch my gaze one last time.

"I hope I didn't fuck this up. Please, anytime you'd like, come and talk to me, okay?"

As she turns I finally get a grip on my puzzlement.

"Sofia, don't leave right now. Please. Please stay."

She faces me again, looking almost relieved. Still there's awkwardness in the way she holds herself and I can't help thinking that there has been a little more depth, a little more than she told me to what's just happened.

And I want to know. If there is something Sofia sees in me, I don't understand it, but I want to, I want to address it, I need to know. It'll spoil our growing friendship if things are left unsaid right now.

"I wish I could offer you a beer and have one myself right now. But we've got to work later on. So would you like a coffee?"

She almost collapses into my recliner and nods weakly.

"Yeah, please. As much as I could use some alcohol right now, coffee will have to do. Thank you."

I make myself busy in the kitchen, giving her a moment to catch her breath and gather her thoughts. I might just need that little moment myself. I know the thank you wasn't just about the coffee. It was about me urging her to stay.

I flip the switch on the machine on and retrieve two cups from my cupboard.

What if... A very prominent what-if runs through my head again and again. I turn my head and watch her fondle nervously with the zipper on her hoodie, gaze down, posture tense.

A loud rattling and bubbling announces that the coffee is done, I fill our cups, return to the sofa and hand her one. Sitting down, I take the time to study her for a moment. Like I said, I've never really looked at her in another capacity as CSI or Detective Curtis and later potential friend Sofia. Since Hanna, I haven't _really _looked at any woman very closely. Of course it hasn't passed me by that she is a beautiful woman. Not to see that would just be plain blindness, Wendy has her strong points, too, so does Catherine, always has, very much so I have to admit. But it never went further than that. Now I see her in a different light. What if, there we go again, what if she is in fact interested in me, attracted to me? Would I ever consider it? She sips her coffee, carefully blowing over the hot deep black liquid, causing little ripples to appear on its surface. Her eyes are clear now and her expression tells me she's not going to lie to me. That just wouldn't be like her. She will face whatever it is head on and will endure any consequence.

Suddenly she looks up and our glances meet.

"Sara, you won't find the answer you're obviously looking for by just staring at me that kinda scaringly intense. But I think I've freaked you out enough for one day, huh? Or do you really want to get into this now?"

Involuntarily I have to smile a bit. There's the confidence in her I was looking for.

"Yes, in fact I do want to know a thing or two. Just talk, Sofia. I do believe it was a spur of the moment thing, what I don't believe is that this is all it was."

She puts her mug down and looks up at me sharply before she gets up and takes a seat beside me. Close enough for our knees to touch a bit. She never takes her eyes off me and I know that she's allowing me to see in them what she's about to say.

Oh, for heaven's sake, I was right!

"I know that my timing really sucks. I bet that this is the last thing you want to hear and I'm pretty sure I'm one of the last people you want to hear it from. But it's just like I said, Sara, I think you tremendously underestimate just what you can do to a person. With your dark and haunted eyes, with your low and husky voice, with your intensity, your will to work your way into finding an answer, your skills, your dedication and your humanity, your intelligence, your broody stare, that cocked eyebrow, the way you walk, even your scowl and of course with that gorgeous, gap-toothed smile. I didn't want this to happen, I fought not to fall, I knew it was neither the right time nor did I have any doubt that you never even wasted the slightest thought in seeing in me what I've been finding myself discovering in you lately. I thought supporting you silently, showing you someone understood and cared and finally working our way into this friendship would suffice for me. That having you as a friend would eradicate every thought that went further from my mind. But today proved me more than just wrong. Now I know that you're exactly what I'm looking for and more. I'm sorry, Sara, I didn't mean to kiss you out of the blue. But I will never, ever regret it. Even if this was it, altogether."

All I can do is take some really, really deep breaths. My instincts shout at me to get away, to flee. To extract myself from this conversation, I'm just not good with such emotions, such situations.

But instead I keep staring into her eyes and I see that every word is true. The admiration, the attraction and the- I gulp and squint my own eyes- the hint of desire in those shining, bright, blue eyes.

"Sofia..." I start softly, not having the faintest idea how to respond to the bomb she just dropped on me. But she was truthful, put her feelings out in the open, more than just suspecting that they won't be reciprocated, so the least I can do is be just as honest.

"You are right, I didn't and don't see more in you than a friend. But not _just_ _a_ friend. I think we have the potential to be close friends. Still do. I don't know you that well yet and even so I have trusted you almost from the very beginning, I trust you'd never hurt me, I know you understand me in a way few people have in the past. You've more than proved that over the last months. I guess some of that understanding may have sprung from the fact that you have watched me that more closely. You could say I've already profited from your attentiveness and your interest, albeit in different way than you've probably hoped for." Wow, I'm on a roll. I didn't know I could even do that. Maybe I have really grown over this whole Hanna-disaster. "For me, this doesn't change a thing, at least it doesn't have to. Though I am painfully aware that it might be even harder now for you to be around me as _just _a friend. I'd feel honoured if you'd try though. And I can't even begin to comprehend how you've described the way you see me. I can't quite grasp that you've really been talking about me. And if there is one thing Hanna taught me, it's how to accept a compliment, even if I don't feel it or understand it from my point of view. So thank you."

The mixture of pain and smugness in Sofia's expression is hard to describe and even harder to place. The disappointed sadness I guess, but-

"So I've at least managed to really impress you. Well, that's something I can work with." Sofia stated with a slight smirk that lasts a few seconds before it's replaced by a defeated, but understanding look. "Even though I was sure I'd be rejected, it does hurt. But it's okay, it really is. I never expected anything from you. I didn't even intend to ever tell you. I don't wanna lose what we're building, so I'm going to try. It's gonna be hard, but you're worth it. This-" She points from me to her and back. "-is gonna be worth it. It already is."

* * *

**I'm kinda sorry. I do like Sofia, very much so and I am not out to make Sofia the unlucky one in all my stories. I know I already did that in 'Mistakes' and that was hard, believe me. She is going to get what she wants before this one is over. Just don't be too sure that it's going to be Sara... Don't be too sure. Now, due to the dry spell after the last chapter, please reward me with some feedback this time around...**


	11. 11

**Jess: Well, get that account so I can answer to your reviews directly, I'd love to respond. And to put this on story alert, of course... Your review made my night! I remembered you reviewed 'Mistakes' once and your review made me blush and so damn proud. Thanks for all you've said so far!**

**A/N: I've had (and still have) serious difficulties to figure out where I want to take it from here, I'm still not sure, so please don't hesitate to voice your opinions. **

**The progress here takes some time because various other ideas have been running wild in my head and had to get out. I've written a kind of CSI/Fringe crossover one-shot and yet another CSI story, that might be posted tonight, too. The Fringe thing will probably never see the light of day, yet I had to write it, there was no concentrating on anything else til after I was done with it...  
**

* * *

11.

The small huffs of breath that escape my mouth condense and form little clouds in the crisp morning air. The sun has yet to come up, it's dark, the air is moist and almost too cold for this time of year, but with every step I warm up a little more, my heart rate increases and a dull but comfortable and very familiar ache makes itself known in my calves and thighs.

Beside me another pair of feet drum a rhythmic beat on the ever-changing ground beneath us. Grinding on the sandy slope down to the park, thumping over the small wooden bridge, then softer on the concrete of the sidewalk of my neighbourhood's streets, good soles absorbing the pressure of each step on the hard ground.

While my breathing gets calmer with time and the getting used to our tempo, the panting next to me increases with each passing mile.

"Out of shape, Detective?" I chuckle a bit as I speed up as soon as the words have left my mouth and I hear a defeated groan behind me.

"Since someone decided not to engage with me in physical activities apart from jogging, I might not have had the work-out I was looking for lately."

I stumble a bit, losing my footing there for a second. I still have to get used to the way Sofia is coping with her attraction to me by teasing me relentlessly.

"Goodness, Sara, where do you take the energy from?"

I smirk and fall back a bit until Sofia has managed to catch up with me, breathing heavier than ever.

"Since I don't engage in other physical activities apart from jogging, I've got plenty of energy left to do just that. Come on, Sophie, only half a mile before you can take a hot shower and have breakfast."

She groans again and slows down until she's standing, shaking her obviously sore legs and stretches a bit.

"Pains me even more that my head is making very wild guesses about your stamina concerning those other activities right now."

She weighs her head from one side to the other and I hear a distinctive cracking noise while I jog on the spot beside her.

Deliberately looking over to the other side of the street where a bakery is just opening for the day, I mutter just loud enough for her to hear.

"I've had no complaints yet..."

"You're going to have to make it up to me for that comment by jogging right in front of me the rest of the way and I will enjoy having my eyes glued to that gorgeous ass of yours, Sidle. Get going. I'm gonna need ten minutes more in the shower now. And I'm going in first."

I fall back into my trot, making sure Sofia can follow easily and we jog the last half mile in companionable silence. I don't mind having Sofia ogle me, as long as she does it in the privacy of the time just the two of us spend together. I know she doesn't have a switch to turn her feelings off over night and this little game has become somewhat of a routine lately. She teases me, I tease her back, she's trying to embarrass me with some come on and I just brush it off or simply don't react. We've been talking a lot over the past week, spent a lot of our free time together, determined not to belatedly slide into that awkward spot because of what has happened.

And it works like a charm.

I slip my key into the lock in my apartment door and Sofia rests one hand against the wall of the hallway, bending a bit forward to catch her breath. As soon as the door clicks open she rushes past me, opens the tap of my kitchen sink and drinks thirstily from it without bothering to search for a glass first.

"There's plenty where that comes from, no need to be so greedy." I laugh while she comes up and shoots daggers at me with her eyes while drops run down her chin and she brushes them off with the back of her hand.

I slowly back off as if to escape her mock death-glare, but in fact I'm trying to sneak into the bathroom first. Her eyes light up as she gets where I'm heading towards and with two long strides she has me backed against the still closed door behind me. She plants each of her hands to the sides of my head against the bathroom door and the slight widening of her pupils doesn't escape me.

"It was just too tempting, huh, Sara? Now get me to back off or I'll just keep staring at you for the longest time."

I stare into her eyes, wondering why she would voluntarily bring herself into such close proximity to me. That can't be good for her. I can feel the heat radiating off her body, can see how she's fighting the urge to really pin me to this door. Her eyes already do.

"Sofia-" I call out to her softly. "Don't make it so hard on yourself. Please."

She smirks smugly at me and inches even closer.

"I can stand it, Sara, I am trying to make it hard on you."

I scan her eyes and find no hint of pain, just amusement, a challenge and a quite healthy dose of desire that she's definitely not shy enough to hide from me.

Shifting from one foot to the other it slowly makes itself known to me that her closeness is somehow starting to mess with me. Some primal force in my head laughs at my rationality about the whole thing. Here in front of me is a beautiful, slightly sweaty woman that wouldn't hesitate a second if I just reversed our positions and took advantage of her desire. It's been almost a year since I last had sex and the physicality of the situation isn't lost on my body, though she never gets closer, leaves her arms outstretched. I feel my heart rate increase once again and her eyes bore into mine. She shouldn't be able to do that to me. I force my body's reaction to finally agree again with my mind. Then I grin evilly and bring my mouth close to her ear. I know it must be torture for her, but she brought this onto herself. My breath grazes her earlobe as I whisper.

"Sofia, go and get a very, very cold shower."

I can feel the hair in my neck stand up as I hear her suppress a low moan and as if shook out of her daze, she instantly drops her arms and reaches for the doorknob. I step to the side and Sofia vanishes into the bath, locking the door behind her.

A breath escapes me I didn't know I had been holding. I shake my head to get rid of the confusion that has crept up on me.

Then I chuckle as I hear the shower get turned on and a muffled yelp that tells me Sofia is cooling herself down.

My, she has got some nerve, coming on to me like that.

Actually, I admire both her boldness and her self-restraint.

She knows I wouldn't rip her a new one if she tried to kiss me again, I like her way too much and understand her predicament too good to ever be mad at her.

She just wouldn't get anything out of it, I surely wouldn't kiss her back.

But she simply respects me too much to bring me into a situation where I clearly had to ask her to back off. She knows where to draw the line, even though this line shifts a little from day to day.

I get myself a glass of water while I wait for her to finish her shower. As she emerges out of the bathroom, hair damp, wrapped into one of my oversized towels, she grins.

"You're a piece of work, Sidle. Such a pity I can't get you to accept what's going to happen anyway. One of these days, Sara, you'll realise what you're missing out on."

I grin and walk towards the bath, looking forward to a very _warm_ shower.

"Careful, Sophie. One of these days, that enormous ego of yours won't fit through the doors anymore."

Before I close the door, I stick my head back into the living room, giving her a very deliberate once-over.

"And dream on!"

Just as the door clicks shut I can hear one of her trainers hit the wood behind me.

After a healthy and opulent breakfast she leaves to grab some hours of much needed sleep and I slump down on my sofa, I'm tired, but not exactly ready to go to bed just yet.

I haven't been sleeping too good lately. That dream has reoccurred, always with some kind of minor variation and I've always been waking up before a face is revealed, struggling for breath, bathed in sweat and frighteningly aroused.

I mean, I get it. I'm only human and to be honest, I've healed enough to be starting to crave some human touch again. But I'm not ready for any kind of deeper commitment. Another reason, I guess, why that woman 's identity is never revealed, why she remains faceless.

Skipping through the channels, I feel my eyes flutter shut and my head repeatedly sinking down on my chest, much to my dismay. I sigh and switch the TV off. I still have five hours left until my alarm would usually get off. Grabbing the light blanket off the back of the couch, I make myself comfortable and soon drift into a slumber.

_I'm being pressed into my front door, face first, the weight of another body keeps me there. The pressure is light enough that I could get away, but the feeling of hips grinding __seductively into my ass keeps me there. Hands glide over my bare shoulders, down the fabric of the tank-top covering my sides, gently, slowly, ghosting over me, never staying in one place, making me squirm and wish for a firmer touch. Warm air is blown across my neck and up to my ear and goose bumps immediately start to cover the area. Arms encircle me and start to move my body in unison to their movements against my backside, one hand inches down the front of my jeans and cups my sex, and a finger or two toy with the seam between my legs, the friction at exactly the right spot causing me to moan under my breath. _

_As wet lips make contact with the already sensitive skin__ on my neck and suck on it, a series of shivers runs down my spine. I start to pant, my breath's becoming more and more elaborated with every new contact and a low and drawn-out groan escapes my throat._

_"__Aw, I knew you'd like that. Stop fighting me. Come on, be a bad girl for once, Sara. Be a real bad girl for me."_

My eyes are wide open and I sit up so quickly that I'm effectively pushing Red off of me, who meows offended and goes to work his frustration about the sudden wake-up call out on his scratching post.

I stare into space and try to process that new turn in those dreams. It's the first time I've been spoken to and the voice that addressed me still rings in my ears. The tone and the implication. The real owner of that voice...

I throw the covers off me and pad barefooted and confused into my kitchen, the cold feel of the tiles under my soles a stark contrast to my overheated body and repeat Sofia's actions from after the run, drinking from the tap but also splash a little cold water in my face. It's not nearly enough to cool me down. I need a shower. And, well...

Stepping under the not even lukewarm spray, I lean my head against the cold tiles of my shower and very quickly bring myself some release. Oh God, I really needed that. Yet I can't get rid of the need that's immediately flaring up in me again, nor of the voice still echoing in my head.

I don't know how long I've stayed in there, but by the time I get out of my bathroom, my alarm is beeping and there's no time to wallow on that dream, I have to get ready for work. It is going to be a long day.

* * *

**I apologise in advance should the next update again take a little more time than usual. Thanks for reading!  
**


	12. 12

I literally drag Sofia out of the PD, slamming the back door shut behind us, the force of my movement easily overpowering the automatic closing which should keep the door from being smashed close. She stumbles in front of me into a far off corner behind the building.

Not willing to make the same mistake twice, I know better than to yell at her inside, even though there's no Ecklie in sight. But with my luck, he'd just appear there for some seemingly important reason the second I jump at Sofia's throat.

I'm fuming, I'm so angry I feel like punching something. I grab her shoulder harshly as she's trying to turn away from me. She knows she has fucked up today. She's already gotten an earful from Brass and by the looks of it, it hasn't been a very restrained conversation. I know she's angry, too, angry at herself for losing her temper, for compromising this case with an unprofessionalism that is strangely untypical for her, even angrier at the word 'disappointed' that fell from the Captain's lips during his talk. I know she will beat herself up over those three minutes for weeks, if not months to come, but right now I don't care. I gotta blow off some steam myself.

I should be exhausted, craving to finally return home, slip into bed and do nothing but sleep for the next eight to ten hours, but right now I'm way to agitated to care.

"What the fuck have you been thinking in there? Did you even for a second consider the CSI's work? Hours and hours of crawling around on the floor in that house and processing all that evidence. Now we don't even know it will get as far as to a trial. This verged on police brutality and he just needs the right lawyer and he's out of the whole thing. Not even to mention what could happen to you, you've risked your career. Well, fuck you Sofia, for being so careless. What the hell has gotten into you?"

All through my rant her eyes have never left mine. I can see her hands shaking at her sides and I know she'll either extract herself from this situation or she'll blow up at me. She scrutinizes me closely for long seconds. I want to reach out and shake some sense into her. Then her eyes turn the iciest shade of blue I have ever seen them.

"Go fuck yourself, Sara. Don't pretend to be so high and mighty, you've made mistakes yourself over the years. Don't you dare lecture me. You haven't been in that room, you haven't had to look that bastard in the eyes while he's smirking and happily recalls what he did."

She turns to leave but I grab her arm again. She yanks it out of my grip and the expression on her face almost scares me. It dares me to touch her just once more and she will lose it. I decide to push my luck. Something else is nagging on her and I'm not willing to let her go until I know what provoked such a strong reaction from her.

"Sofia..."

She practically swivels around and pushes me away from her, roughly. I tumble backwards, not having expected her to get physical.

"Don't Sara, just let me go."

There's pure venom in her voice and her glance is laced with indescribable fury, while at the same time I see self-loathing in it and fear.

I take a step towards her and she retreats further, holding her hands up in a defensive gesture. I repeat the movement, so does she. Then a flash of resistance runs over her features and she gets into my face.

"What the fuck do you want? I'm not going to apologize, not to you. I'm not going to explain myself. So leave me the fuck alone, Sara."

She's standing not much more than a mere inch in front of me. Red hot anger is tearing at me. Why won't she back down? I have never seen her like this, between sheer ire and such helplessness.

"No, I won't. Not until you give me some answers. What was different today? What did you let get through to you? What was different about him? You've dealt with _much _worse before. Tell me, Sofia." I demand.

She snorts and if looks could kill, I'm sure I'd be dying a slow and painful death right now.

She's so close now that we are breathing the same air.

"Not a chance. Are you really sure you wanna make me any angrier right now? You might really regret that."

Her whole posture changes within the fraction of a second. She's the aggressor now and suddenly I wish I would have just let her walk away and had come to find her later, to talk about it when we've both had the chance to cool down a bit.

I freeze at the subtle but not at all ignorable shiver that runs down my spine as I see the ice melt away in her eyes and being replaced by a raging wildfire. Suddenly it's not about pulling a suspect across an interrogation table and crushing him into the tiled floor, not about violated and killed teenage girls, not about compromising and risking a case and her career, it's about me and her.

She smirks smugly, drinking in the realisation in my eyes and whispers hoarsely and very close to my mouth.

"I'll give you a reason to back off-"

I know she's not done talking when I still feel hot air against the sensitive skin of my glowing face as she draws in a deep breath.

"As much as you annoy and piss me off right now, seeing you that angry is such an incredible turn-on it almost blanks out everything that's happened today. So back off, Sara, or you'll find yourself in a situation where you wished you did cave earlier."

She locks her now almost violet eyes with mine and the amount and intensity of almost carnal lust displayed in them still catches me completely off guard. Unanticipated and incredibly confusing images of Sofia shoving me into the brick wall behind me and kissing me roughly flood my swirling mind. There's no mistaking that look she gives me. There's no mistaking that something's luring behind my confusion as other words run in circles in my mind.

_"Stop fighting me. Come on, be a bad girl for once, Sara. Be a real bad girl for me."_

And I shock myself by staring at her almost unfazed and stating dryly: "Try me."

She tries taking a quick step towards me, closing the minimal distance between us but I beat her to it, moving even faster. We meet half way and the hunger with which my mouth crashes into hers is so far beyond my comprehension that it's freaking me out inside. As her whole body bumps into mine I fist into the fabric of her shirt at the small of her back to keep her this close while my other hand finds purchase in her hair and yanks her head back as my tongue insistently demands entry to her mouth, which she grants with a groan and her arms encircle my waist. The whimper she emits as our tongues meet makes me gasp. I shut out my brain that's screaming at me for attention, all I can do is kiss her, hard and bruising, with all my anger and my anxiety and the so very sudden flash flood of arousal that washed over me. She sucks at my lower lip before delving back inside, devouring my mouth while I push her backwards until it is her back that hits the wall. As I lower my mouth to her neck and ferociously suck on her pulse point, a shudder runs through the length of her body that leaves the most pleasant goose bumps on my arms, mostly because it's accompanied by her trembling and low voice.

"Oh god, Sara!"

I lavish her skin with my tongue, nibble, kiss and suck every available patch that is exposed to me, her hands glide down my back and land on my backside, squeezing hard and it's then that my own low and dangerously far off sounding growls kick starts my brain again and I realise what it is I'm doing. With her.

I honestly haven't felt attracted to her until mere moments ago. And all of a sudden there's no thought left in my mind but the desire, the _need_ to rip her clothes off and fuck her senseless until she's screaming my name.

I want to make her scream, I want to make her come so hard she forgets she's ever been with a person who didn't respect and love her as much as I do.

What? Of course I do love her, she's my trustee, my best friend.

How can I _love _her like that, as just a friend and still want her at the same time?

I don't want to want her, I don't want to destroy what we have because I've rediscovered that I do have hormones. Demanding hormones. Hormones demanding Sofia to be the one to still them.

FUCK!

I pull back, almost tripping over my own feet while breathing heavily and staring at Sofia with wide eyes.

Oh dear Mother Mary, what have I done?

Sofia's eyes open slowly and there's an instant bitterness in them as she takes notice of my expression. She smirks contemptuously as she pushes herself off the wall, wiping her mouth with her sleeve.

"I knew it was too good to be true. Does fighting turn you on that much, Sara? Is this why you always picked an argument with Catherine? Because it gets you off?"

_Oh no, no, no._

"Sofia, I-" the rest of the sentence gets stuck in my throat, actually because I don't have the damnest clue at what to say at all. I don't even know what has gotten into me. While my mind is reeling, my body completely disagrees with her assumption that is was too good to be true.

"I'd be using you." I admit in a tone that conveys my own insecurity. A bit more confident now that the understanding seems to set in, I continue. "I would have been using you if I had kept this up, Sofia. I have no explanation yet, I just know that right now, there's nothing I want more than to never have stopped kissing you. But as long as I neither know why that is or where this sudden urge came from and just what's behind it, I just can't do it. I'd be hurting you even more than I already did."

I can see she's torn. Rational, sensitive Sofia knows I'm right, knows how much more pain she'd be in for if we proceeded and it would have been just that, a one time thing, born out of some almost desperate need I can't for the death of me explain. Yet a small part of her seriously considers going on, going through with it. No matter the cost. Getting at least that, one morning. I can see it in her eyes, in the way she lets her glance wander over my body, the way her right hand twitches by her side as if she wanted to reach out for me and pull me in again.

But she turns and stalks stiffly over to the back entrance door, throwing the next words over her shoulder without bothering to look at me again.

"Tell me if you figure it out eventually."

The door falls into its lock behind her and I stare at it long after Sofia's gone.

I replay everything in my mind.

Sure, I have been flattered by her words, her honesty, that chaste kiss. It felt good to know that someone, someone I care honestly about and whom I respect and admire could fall for me. But no, I didn't feel anything apart from deep, yet friendly affection for Sofia. What has changed and more importantly, when?

While we fought, there was so much going on in her ice blue eyes. They sparkled with the fire of agitation, burned with all of Sofia's passion, for the job, for her anger at having made a mistake and definitely with all these feelings for me she tries to suppress so hard in order to make our friendship work before they froze. And then lit up again. And it reeled me in. The thought of having all that magnetic power, that passion directed at me, how it would feel if all those pent up emotions broke free at once, what she would do to me, how she would touch me, tender and soft, detecting bit by bit every spot that would make me weak in the knees and leave me breathless or rough and with the need born out of too many hours, days, months wasted on imagining me and her, which I am sure she did, hastily exploring new grounds and finally being allowed to take what she has been wanting for so long now?

Oh god, judging by renewed the shiver of arousal that settles somewhere very low in my stomach both scenarios would be very fine with me. I can still feel her lips on mine, can still faintly taste her on them.

I want her. Just recalling the way she looked just moments ago, a second before our mouths met , makes it clear that I am incredibly attracted to her. I remember her curves pressed against my body, my fingers tangling in her silky hair wafting around her shoulders, the glimpse of the swell of her breast I caught whilst kissing down her neck, how she tiptoed just a bit to make up for the height difference, her hands sliding over my back, strong, sure, determined, yet gentle.

I let out a loud groan of frustration.

How can I find a way out of this without hurting her even more?


	13. 13

**Another one for the weekend. This story is slowly coming to an end, just a couple of chapters to go...**

* * *

13.

Gah, my head is hurting. Trying to swallow, I find my mouth is about as dry as the desert outside and I groan as some memories of beers and a lot of Whiskey return and I groan and try to roll onto my side, but I freeze as I'm bumping into another body.

What the...

I try to feel my way around in the dark and what my hands can reach of the lightly snoring form next to mine does definitely not feel all too feminine. It rather feels like a quite hunky man.

Instantly I scoot back to the edge of the bed.

Oh no, please tell me this isn't happening, Please, please... wait a minute. I've been at Marty's and he would never have let me head out with any stranger in the state I must have been in last night. In fact- I turn back and relieved, my head falls back into the cushions. I know that after shave. I'm still at Marty's, I'm up in his flat.

Beside me, he starts to stir and coughs a bit before a small bedside lamp is turned on.

A disheveled, scruffy and adorably cute looking Marty with a concerned, yet amused expression on his face turns towards me.

"Are you alright, girl?" He asks with a gravelly voice that makes me wonder if he's secretly a smoker.

Looking around to gain some orientation I slowly nod.

"Yeah, think I am. Apart from the splitting headache. Woke up a little frightened though, at first I thought I'd made some terrible mistake."

He blushes a bit, something I'd never expected to see him do and motions at my state of dress.

"Hey, Sara, you can trust me. All I did was remove your shoes and socks. I wanted to let you sleep alone in here and make myself comfortable on the couch, but you just wouldn't let go of me. Asked me to hold you. Who am I to leave you alone when you've obviously needed the comfort. I'm sorry I fell asleep beside you."

Slowly more memories of the previous night come back to me. For all the thinking I had been doing, I couldn't for the life of me fall asleep, so I went over to the bar, but it was such a busy night that Marty didn't find the time for a decent and much much needed chat with me. So I started drinking. By the time the bar emptied, I was so drunk I couldn't form any really coherent sentence anymore and now I do remember Marty taking my car keys and then offering me to stay over and talk in the morning. I gladly accepted, but after that- blank. Nothing, no memories at all.

Obviously I still look a bit dazzled, so he cups my face with both his hands and our gazes meet.

"Sara, I've come to like you a lot. And I assure you, though I do think you're a beautiful woman with an incredible mind and a soul as gentle as you don't usually find them anymore, I'm not attracted to you _that _way. And I would never ever take advantage of anyone. I'm simply glad to be your friend and I guess I did what friends do. I took care of you. Please accept my apology if I crossed any lines. I didn't mean to hurt you."

I gulp and feel my eyes starting to water up. Between Greg, him and Sofia, I have found what I always wanted, true friends. Even though things with Sofia are more than strained at the moment, I'm still thankful they've all found their way into my life. And, for the love of God, quite deep into my heart.

I cover his hands with mine.

"There's nothing to be sorry about. But waking up in a strange bed beside a man when all you can remember is just how much you've been drinking is not the most pleasant thing. The second I realised it was you, I knew I was safe. I trust you Marty, no worries. And thank you. I've had a really crappy day yesterday and I guess I needed that. All of it, including the being held part. Do you think I could use your shower?"

He closes his eyes briefly and a look of relief settles on his features.

"Course you can. There should be a spare toothbrush in the top drawer, towels on the rack are fresh. I'll be downstairs making us some decent coffee, okay? Take all the time you need, use anything you want. There's nothing secret in my bathroom."

I smile at him gratefully, swing my legs out of the bed and still swaying just a bit, I make my way into the adjoining bath.

While I relieve my bladder from the pressure of all the alcohol I've consumed last night, I take look around the room. He seems like quite the tidy man, but I didn't really expect anything else from him. The sink is clean with just a minimum couple of stains of what looks like toothpaste, the bathmats are fluffy and have a nice dark beige colour, a bit of dust in the corner, but otherwise the tiled floor is stainless. All his hygiene products are standing sorted by purpose on the shelves and I chuckle as my glance falls on a small jar of men's care anti-wrinkle lotion and some really expensive looking ointment for dry hands.

I undress and enjoy the warm spray from the large shower head while I sniff at shampoos and shower gels to find one that doesn't smell all too masculine. I find a quite neutral anti-dandruff shampoo and a fruity gel and after about half an hour and with brushed teeth I feel human again as I tie my towel dry hair in a loose ponytail and make my way down the stairs, longing for that promised cup of coffee.

"Tell me, Sara. What had you so wound up last night?"

I take another slow sip from my cup and gaze off into space. I've told him about Sofia, but he doesn't know all the details, nor does he know yet how my feelings have changed.

"I kissed Sofia the night before last."

I let the sentence hang in the air.

"And?" Marty's nonchalance throws me off balance.

"And? She's in love with me! And in the middle of a fight, I go and practically assault her. All of a sudden, all I wanted was to have her, to kiss her and not stop until..."

"But you did stop."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement.

"Yeah, I did. It's not fair. I'm not in love with her. I don't know what came over me."

I groan and bury my face in my hands.

"Girl, you're a living, breathing, feeling human being. And you, just like everyone else, have needs. And something about Sofia triggered a need within you, which is perfectly alright."

"I know that it's alright to feel attraction or to want someone. It's just not alright when there's deeper feelings that are pretty much one-sided. I don't want to hurt her any more, Marty."

He looks at me intensely and I feel like being under a microscope. He's got that knowing look on his face and a slight smirk plays on his lips that annoys me to no end.

"Spill it, Marty!"

"You're falling for her. You'd never admit it, but you are, girl. She's gotten under your skin and you feel so uncomfortable at the prospect of letting someone into your life again, letting someone that close, making yourself vulnerable again after how it went down the last time that your mind fails to acknowledge it. Want is easier to handle then falling in love. You're not willing to take the risk of opening up to yet another person, giving love another try because your mind is so convinced that it'll end just like everything else before has. Friendship is safe. You control the amount of information you're willing to share, you control just how close you're letting someone get to you, there are no hard feelings if you take a step back when you need some time for yourself, it's not a commitment as binding as a relationship. A lover would see so many things in your eyes alone that you're not letting show usually, because she'd be in the prone position to catch you even at the most inopportune times, like when you're sleeping or during sex when you just can't hide what you're feeling. With an affair, when no feelings are invested, you can stay calm and collected, but somehow even now, you can't with her anymore. She's already gotten to you. She has touched something inside you, and let me tell you that it is damn visible that she has, and you feel the need to protect yourself."

All I can do is stare.

Damn him. Damn him for being such a good observer, for having those people skills. Damn him for telling me everything I don't want to hear.

"I'm not ready."

He covers my fingers that are drumming a nervous beat on the surface of the table.

"Then go and tell her. Tell her that you're afraid. Tell her that it's not time yet. Tell her you need to stay friends for some time. Tell her you don't know when or if you'll be ready. But tell her about what you feel about her, too. She needs to know to understand. Don't push her away, she done so much, she's earned your honesty."

It's late afternoon as I find myself in front of Sofia's condo. I went home to change and to feed a very, very hungry Red and decided I couldn't put the conversation we need to have off any longer. I don't want to lose her.

I have to knock three times before I hear any movement behind the door. As the door opens, I face a squinting Sofia, whose hair is all over the place, her eyes still swollen from sleep and she's dressed in sleep shorts and a tank top.

"I'm sorry, Sofia, I didn't mean to wake you."

She yawns widely and opens the door far enough for me to get in.

"Just come in Sara. But don't expect any intelligent reply from me until I've had a coffee. Or two. Last night was tough, I only got into bed like-" she looks at the clock over her kitchen counter. "-four hours ago. But no need to apologize for that. Your welcome here anytime."

I look at her with a frown.

"Am I still?"

She stops filling the coffee machine with water and turns towards me-

"Yes, you are. I still don't understand, but I guess you're going to enlighten me in just a few moments. But please, let me have a coffee first."

I smile.

"No."

Her head whips around again, an irritated look on her face.

"Excuse me?"

I round the counter and pull her into my arms. It takes her a moment to relax into that unexpected embrace, but when she does, she does so with a scowl.

"What's this all about?" She mumbles into my shoulder while she locks her arms behind my head and lets me hold her.

I can no longer deny that I like the feel of her against me more than I anticipated.

Yet it's not the raw need from two days ago, it's something much more subtle and dangerous. It's the feeling that makes you want to not let go of someone. Ever.

"I'm afraid." I whisper into her hair.

"I'm terribly afraid of you, Sofia Curtis. I'm afraid about how good you can read me, I'm afraid that you always seem to sense when something is wrong with me, I'm afraid about how easily you can make me smile, I'm afraid of your sensitivity and I'm even more afraid of your boldness and how much I'm drawn to this incredible smugness of yours. I'm afraid to lose what we've have gained, I'm afraid of getting hurt again, I'm afraid that the connection we have will fade in time, I'm afraid that once you get to know me better, once you know all of the things you don't know yet, you won't be able to see me the way you do now anymore. I'm afraid of the strength of your love. I'm afraid that it might be real. I'm not ready. I'm just not ready."

I softly kiss her crown and I can feel her tremble in my arms.

But I can't. I can't take the next step. It's too new, too unsure, I can't make the sacrifices yet I'd have to make if I allowed myself to feel what I probably could feel for her.

"You-" I swallow around the lump in my throat, this is so not easy for me to admit. "You are incredibly attractive, Sofia. And I can't deny and I won't, because I'd be lying shamelessly, that I wanted you badly. I still do. But I'm not going to use you, I'm not going to jump into bed with you if I'm not even sure I'd still be there in the morning. I couldn't do that to you. Because there's so more about you, but I'm not ready to fully acknowledge it. I don't know for sure if it really is more than the combination of attraction and the affection I feel for you as a friend. I just know that as far as I'm concerned, I think you could be everything I've ever hoped for. You could."

And without daring to look into her eyes again, I let go of her and walk out of her condo.

* * *

**Some feedback would be absolutely lovely. Your opinions really matter to me... Thanks for reading!**


	14. 14

14.

"Sara."

I've almost, almost reached the front door and I flinch at the pitch of anger in Sofia's voice. I grab the doorknob and ignore her, staring to turn it.

"Don't you dare walk out on me after what you've just told me. Don't you leave right now!"

My knuckles are turning white as my hand clenches around the doorknob. Sofia's voice is coming closer and it's a lot softer know she's managed to stop me in my tracks.

"When I kissed you and I felt so ashamed and thought I'd fucked our friendship up big time, you didn't let me leave. We talked through it and we made it past that. Maybe you won't believe me, but Sara, I know what I've signed up for by falling in love with you from the very start. I knew that if the chance was to come one day that you could eventually love me back, there would be no easy, there would be no tender glances and shy gestures and a kiss that brought us together. I knew I was going to have to fight for you. And I also know that fighting's not gonna be enough, because Hanna did fight for you and in the end she gave up, too. Remember that first time you came to Marty's bar? Well, I was there. I was there and I just couldn't see you sad anymore."

Unconsciously my left hand digs deep into my pocket and my fingers find what they're searching for, a well-worn bottle cap.

"You have absolutely no idea how happy that one tiny smile made me. You were still wondering, weren't you?"

I stare at the door in front of me blankly.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

She's right behind me now, I can feel her proximity. It's hard to describe what it does to me, but I'm ultimately torn between turning around and yelling at her for having stalked me like that, running away panicking and grabbing her, pinning her to the wall and kissing her senseless. Yet I don't move a muscle.

"God, Sara, it's complicated. It's so damn complicated because you're so- complicated. Nothing is ever easy with you. Working together with you was a pain. Having you ignore me, almost fight me, telling me off, again and again, doing as good as telling me to leave the lab after the Bell shooting, that hurt. And still, I knew there was so much more to you. I knew I just had to keep looking, to keep challenging you to find it. And we did it, we learned to get along, work together in great tandem. Then all of a sudden, you changed. Profoundly, from one day to the other. It wasn't hard to guess what must've happened. I know what a break-up can do to you. And I felt compassion and affection. So began what you called the silent support, but soon I realised it was more. I looked at you, sulky and angry, in pain and yet so aloof and all I wanted to do was hold you, comfort you. It frightened the hell out of me when I allowed myself to feel what was really happening. And I couldn't leave it by that one beer, so I wrote the post-it. And the next and the next. Until I noticed that it really seemed to creep you out. But you were getting better, slowly, but surely and I already had you in my life then, we were starting to become friends. Sara, do you understand? I wanted to support you as a friend, I wanted you to see that you're, at least in my eyes, are special. I wanted you to work your way into being able to see it yourself again. But I fell, so hard, so fast and I don't regret a second."

I think I'm trembling a bit. The need to turn around and face her becomes bigger and bigger. I wanna see her face, her eyes when she speaks those words, want to make sure she's not sweet-talking, that she really means it.

"But I already hurt you, twice." I state dryly, trying to push the feelings away that are traying to impose themselves onto me..

I can practically hear how she crosses her arms in front of her chest.

"Yeah, you did. You have no idea what I felt when you suddenly were all over me that night. No fucking idea how much it hurt when you let go of me. And you have no idea what it means that I can see it in your eyes, hear it in your words that there really is something and then you're telling me you want me, I could be everything you need, but you don't dare jump because you're too afraid. I know you will hurt me countless times in the future, whichever decision you make in the long run. I'm prepared for that. I'm prepared that you tell me it was just desire, that you have no deeper feelings for me. Then I'm going to fight for our friendship and I'll get over you. But if that's not the case and you deny yourself and me the chance at something here because you're thinking too far ahead, because you're already anticipating disappointment and pain before even giving me the chance to be in that position where I can really hurt you, you're a fool, but I'm not going to let this fool go. I am not going to promise you forever, Sara Sidle, I am not going to tell you I will never hurt you or that the happy ever after you're still dreaming of, that the hurt and neglected little girl that lives inside of this intelligent, rational, and very much realistic woman craves so much exists. Because it doesn't. But I can promise you honesty and respect and love. That's what you'd get with me. What you're looking for doesn't exist in this world. It's a dream. And you know it."

"I know. Damn it, Sofia, I know, that's why it's hurting so much. Thinking I'll never be really happy. I'll never really feel safe. Why is nothing in this life for sure?"

"There are moments. Moments when everything is good. Moments when you will feel safe and sure and happy. Moments when the doubts will fade because right then, in that very moment, everything is just perfect. Life is too short to ignore those moments out of the fear that they might one day be over. What have you got, what are you living for if not these moments? The moment a case breaks and you know you've got him. The moment someone is saved because of our work. The moment when you drive home in your car after a hard shift and watch the sun rise in the sky. The smell of fresh coffee in the morning. Stretching out on the couch after a hot shower and watching your favourite movie with a beer or a glass of wine. Falling in love and knowing that you're not in it alone. Having someone in your life with whom you can share all those little moments and create a butt load more. Having someone who helps you through the bad moments. What would life be if you deny yourself those moments, however fleeting they may appear, they are real?"

She's unbelievable. Because I know she's right, because I believe it, too.

I turn around and look into her eyes. A thousand moments with her flash before my eyes. All the good and all the bad.

I let go of the doorknob and lean heavily against the door. She takes another step into my direction. And another. Until she standing right in front of me and reaches out, running her hand softly over my cheek. Her thumb touches my lower lip and I can feel my heart race in my chest. I lean into the touch, just a little bit.

"Take those chances that you get. You never know when they'll pass you by."

I gently close my finger around her wrist and steer her hand away from my face.

Still maintaining the eye contact, I pull her closer.

"Give me a little time, just a little more time. I promise I won't run away."

"Don't you dare. I'll hunt you down if you do."

"Bossy."

"My good right."

"Arrogant."

"Self-assured."

"Smug."

"And you love it."

"I so don't."

"Liar."

"Love-fool."

"For you? Anytime."

"You're just as afraid, aren't you?"

"I'm scared out of my mind. But I don't care. I'm already in too deep. I want this, I want you."

Still standing so close to me, she takes a chance and hugs me, tightly, molding into me before she suddenly lets go.

"Now go, just go or I won't let you."

Sofia's eyes are a bit wide and her cheeks are flushed. I try to burn that image into my mind. Try to preserve one of those moments she was talking about.

I quickly turn and rush out the door.

She leaves the door wide open. Literally. She gives me time.

But just how much more time do I need?


	15. 15

15.

I'm lying on my bed, my eyes wide open while my right hand is busy stroking Red's stomach. I try not to let my mind wander in moments like these, it seems too easy for it to come up with pictures of Sofia by my side, her head resting on my shoulder while she reaches over to pet Red, too.

My mind is a fickle thing these days. It seems to have decided to throw vivid images of how life would be like if I make that decision and it slowly verges on torture that the further I try to push the thought away from me, the more insistently those pictures play like a movie inside of my head.

Suddenly I have started picking up on even more things about Sofia. Things I'm sure I hadn't really noticed before.

That I like it much better when she wears her hair open. That her hands are really small and delicate, yet they look so powerful when she clutches her service weapon tightly and clears a scene. That she absent-mindedly chews on pens when she's run out of toothpicks, but just then. That her swagger is mesmerizing and I have to force myself to look away when she's walking. That she never wears those heeled boots on the days after we went for a run. The way she grimaces when she takes the first sip of a fresh hot cup of coffee. The concave at the side of her neck, between her shoulder muscle and her clavicle, it's divine. That she cuts her pancakes before she literally soaks them in melted butter and maple syrup and the little sigh she emits when she's having the perfect bite, pancake, a small piece of bacon and preferably a strawberry. It gives me the jitters.

It's been three weeks. Three weeks of cases and sunshine and rain and breakfasts and runs. Three weeks and still she sat there in the booth this morning, grinning at me as if she wasn't waiting for a sign, an indication, an answer. Relaxed and seemingly content just to spend time with me.

When we part, she gives me a short hug, sometimes a little kiss on the cheek. She never looks grumpy or dissatisfied that I'm still stalling, still drawing out the time. The pressure of her touch is reassuring and her eyes still carry that look of admiration. I believe it, I do, it is real.

Can I see a future for us? Can I see her by my side even in rougher times?

I know we'll fight, we're different enough, yet we balance each other out.

So we're both passionate women about certain things. I'm quite sure that's a good thing, isn't it?

Can I do it again? Do I want to do it again? Open myself up to this world of hurt that coud possibly await me?

Deny myself a shot at happiness?

Right now, she seems like the right one. For now, I mean, for now. You never know what's going to happen in a year or two. Do I trust her? Maybe more than anyone.

So if I trust her, why not?

I sigh deeply and try to relax, block all those thoughts. I'm spinning in circles and I know it.

The steady purring beside me tells me that Red has fallen asleep.

So I climb out of my bed and do what I mostly do on my days off now, I grab a coat and head over to Marty's.

The second I climb onto a barstool he gives me his 'Marty-glare', sets an ice-cold bottle down in front of me and proceeds to stare at me.

It's been the same procedure for weeks now. He gives me the silent treatment until I can't take it anymore. Today it takes me three more beers before I falter.

"I'm still not sure."

"You are."

"And you are awfully sure of yourself."

"I have every reason. I know I'm right and I also know you're throwing away the chance for something good here, Sara."

It always goes along those lines.

But today something is different. He lets it slide. He never did that before.

Ten minutes later he comes back to exchange my empty bottle with a fresh one and also places a tumbler filled with a generous amount of Whiskey beside it.

"I'm supposed to tell you that a smile suits you much better than all the frowning you're doing today. Again. Someone hates to see you sad, girl. Enjoy the drinks."

He turns away before I can even open my mouth to stop him.

She's here. I quickly turn around and let a scanning glance sweep through the room. But I can't find her, can't see her anywhere.

I down the Whiskey and wash the burning in my throat away with a mouthful of beer.

Marty refills the tumbler.

"She said to refill your glass no less than three time, but no more than five."

He turns away again and I hear him mutter something like 'How can a single person be so darn stupid and stubborn.'

Well, thanks, buddy...

This time I enjoy the burning of the liquor.

Once again amber coloured bourbon splashes into my glass.

"She-"

"Oh, stop it, Marty. I've had enough of that. Tell her to stop it."

Marty harshly sets the bottle down on the counter and looks over my right shoulder, then back at me and places a second glass beside mine.

"Go tell her yourself, she's standing right behind you."

I don't dare to turn around. I keep staring into my glass and swirl the drink and the ice cubes around in it. The stool beside me scratches over the wooden floorboards, then she climbs onto it.

A sunflower with a post it wrapped around its stem is being pushed behind my glass. Without looking up I take it and unwrap the little note.

'Just one smile, please.'

I sigh and involuntarily, again, I have to smile to myself.

"Thank you, Sara."

That voice. The voice from my dream, the voice I've come to miss hearing more often lately, the voice of a friend, the voice of the woman I've fallen for. The woman I've hurt and rejected. The woman who'd given me all the time I needed to make my decision and yet she's here, doing these stupid things...

I turn and face a shyly grinning Sofia Curtis.

"I'm sorry, Sar."

I frown and watch her pour herself a drink.

"What for?"

She empties her glass and looks at me with longing in her eyes.

"For all the secrecy stuff in the past. I should have been honest and open from the start. I'll wait, Sara. I'll wait as long as it takes you. Just tell me that you're willing to battle with your fears, tell me you'd like to make the sacrifices, tell me I'm worth it. Then I'll wait."

"I'm already fighting. I see it, Sofia, I see it every day, you and me. And every time I'm reaching to pick up the phone, another doubt gets in my way and keeps me from dialing. But you're worth it."

And we talk. We talk with the clarity of a problem unresolved.

And without really noticing it, I live my way into the answer.

We've long ditched the Whiskey, we're having coffee, water. Munching nuts. I don't have the slightest Idea what time it is, but seeing that there's only a handful of people left in the bar, it must be really late.

I start telling her details about my life. Not the really harsh things yet, but I scratch the surface. The more I talk, the quieter she gets. The more intensely she listens. Her eyes though, they are silently answering. They get small and dark in anger, widen in amusement and light up with understanding. As I pause to take another sip from my coffee, they darken again, this time I instantly recognize the shade. I gulp and stare into them, I fall into the depth of admiration and need displayed.

"Sofia."

"Huh?"

"I'm lost when you look at me like that."

She straightens and now her expression is guarded.

"I'm not pushing, Sara, I'm just damn proud that you've told me all this. Just know that... That I'd really like to hug you. For putting so much trust in me. But, never mind, go on if you like, there's more, huh?"

This is it. This respectful withdrawal is my undoing.

"Don't..."

She's visibly confused.

"What? did I do something wrong? I thought you wanted me to stop staring at you like- like-"

"Like you want me? Like you love me?"

"Yes." She's getting nervous and impatient. And I?

"I did. But now-" I pause and look up. I'm pretty sure my gaze reflects her earlier one.

"-now I just want to kiss you."

I have barely finished that sentence when she leans back on her stool, as far out of my reach as possible without falling off.

"No. You don't get to say something like that if you don't truly mean it. Don't say it if you're not 100 percent sure you really want it."

I slide off my seat and now I'm standing right in front of her, right inside her personal space. As I lift my hand up and gently touch her cheek, her eyes flutter shut and she exhales sharply. I let my gaze wander over her face, I imagine being able to do this, see this, feel her laboured breath on my skin, watch her lower lip tremble, inhale her scent, talk to her like we just did, almost get into an argument with her on a daily basis.

I'm still afraid, I'll always be, but there's not a chance in hell anymore that I am going to miss out o this.

"Sofia, open your eyes."

Our glances lock and I let her see the sincerity of my statement.

"This kind of talk was long overdue. And I'm sure."

As our lips meet for the third time, awareness rushes through me.

The bigger the doubt, the greater the moment when you know you've overcome it, for good.

The greater the obstacles that lie behind you, all the more satisfying the joy you feel when you finally know why you had to overcome them, that you've won and what you've gained.

When I look up into a pair of beaming blue eyes, tomorrow, next month or year isn't important. We're here, in this very moment, and I'm going to enjoy it.

When I feel her hand in my neck, drawing me closer and she wraps herself around me, cocooning me, enveloping me with all the love she has to give and she playfully nips at my lips, I know I'm right where I'm supposed to be.

When she breaks the kiss and grins at me, grins that lopsided, smug grin only she can manage, I laugh and try to kiss it away, how dare she look smug right now.

But isn't that one of the reasons I've fallen for her?

* * *

**Honestly? I've had a different ending first. But as ****endearing the thought of being really mean and letting the bubble burst seemed at first, it just didn't want to be written. No chance...  
**

**So here we go. Damn me for being such a sucker for happy endings. **

**It's the end, so I'd like to ask for your opinions, one last time...**

Off to watch Rizzoli & Isles. How did I manage to let that one pass me by? It's great!**  
**


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